Waiting in Sin
by JerichosPhantom
Summary: Ulquiorra Schiffer is a very patient man. UlquiHime, Ulquiorra is Harry. Rated T. Chapter 12 Author's Note
1. The Ash

**A/N: Yo. Ulquiorra dies and becomes Harry. This is NOT a oneshot. This is for the people who wanted a sequel to Bleached Magic. While I'm on that topic, this is NOT a sequel to Bleached Magic. Enjoy.  
**

**I don't own Bleach or Harry Potter.  
**

Ulquiorra Schiffer, was a **_very_** patient person.

He's been waiting a long time. And for many things.

He waited for decades to become stronger, and stronger, and stronger until he was the strongest.

He waited, and became, Aizen-sama's perfect subordinate, solider, and son.

He waited for the knowledge of the human 'heart'.

He waited for the perfect moment to absolutely **crush** Kurosaki Ichigo.

Ulquiorra has waited and waited.

Ulquiorra, has waited for far too long.

* * *

Ulquiorra gazes back at his fading wings. Turning to ash; dying. He waits for the inevitable.

_...I envy because of the heart..._

You protect _**him**_...you shield _**him**_...is it because of your human heart? Why do _they_ have a heart?...Why don't _I_ have it...? What is it? The Heart? ...Why do you not protect **_me?_**

* * *

..._I Greed because of the heart..._

_It would be __**his**__._ She would be _**his**__. _

The Woman. All his. He glances her way. She is uncertain, hand above her chest (_Her heart)_ and she gazes at him unwaveringly.

"And here I was...finally starting to take an interest in all of you..."

_In **you**. You, who are **MINE**, _he thinks.

* * *

_...I Glutton because of the heart..._

He drinks in her ramblings of the human world and heart like a man in a desert, though he is unsure why. He wants more...until he his full to burst.

His rational thought must no longer intact, he muses hazily, as his hand acts on it's own and reached for the (_His, __**mine**__, _something dark and forgotten whispers) woman.

"Do I frighten you? Girl."

* * *

_...I Pride because of the heart..._

Foolish, emotional, moronic _**trash.**_ He'd crush him. He would show him who was stronger. He'd show the _(His, _something inside him murmers_)_ woman how pathetic and weak that mock Shinigami was.

_"Come. Kurosaki Ichigo."_

Dark gray tinted purple eyes glisten with unshed tears and brim with more emotion that he simply cannot understand. Sunset hair blows in the desert wind as she softly answers him, "I'm not scared."

* * *

_...I Sloth because of the heart..._

He is no match, you thought. He is no threat, you decided.

Kurosaki Ichigo...you are nothing. So, I will do nothing. I will watch you. You, who squirm under you're own power. I will watch. And I will decide if you are anything.

I do nothing, because you_ are _nothing.

It is a shame, truly, that he became something.

* * *

_...I Wrath because of the heart..._

Insolent boy! Foolish, stupid boy! Me, become more human? I, Aizen-sama's most devoted servant? Wretched brat, I will _**crush**_ you, Kurosaki Ichigo.

How dare you come to take my woman away.

* * *

_...Becasue of the heart..._

"...I see..." I fade, blown to the wind. I feel nothing. Woman...I'm waiting...

_...I lust for everything about you. _Soft warm hair, glistening eyes, a curvaceous, luscious body. I have waited and watched you. I have watched you in ways that cause me to burn with desire and shame. I have looked upon you in your most private moments, all for a glimpse of milky skin, a slender neck, bare shoulders and flawless smooth thighs.

The world turns black, fading away like my body. I'm still reaching, still waiting.

A brush of warmth as her fingertips graze mine. I might have smiled. Perhaps. In the end, Kurosaki Ichigo, I have won.

Her heart is _**mine**__, _and has been entrusted to _**me.**_ And all that matters is...

_This thing in my hand..._

_The heart._

_

* * *

_

Years later, many many years, too green eyes gleam from under damaged, wiry, round frames. Untamed, raven black hair sticks up in all directions. The thin boy sits under the stairs within his sheets. Ulquiorra waits. Waits and hides under the guise of the boy Harry James Potter. Fingering his scar absentmindedly, he leans back and sighs.

He has his heart. Now he continues to wait.

**A/N: Whad'da ya think? Click the blue button and Review! You know you want to.**


	2. Year 1: Gluttony

**A/N: Damn, this is long. I tried to make Ulquiorra in character, but of course he's now human in a 11 year old body. So, you know.**

**I don't own Bleach or Harry Potter**

**Year 1: Gluttony  
**

Ulquiorra is patient. He is different, and always has been. He knows this, but he is even more different then he thought.

_"You're a wizard Harry."_

"Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

_I wonder, does the Soul Society know of this? _Ulquiorra thinks brazenly, as he lets shock paint his features. _Ironic_, he thinks, _that in this life emotion has become my mask._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra stares at the snowy white owl satisfied, while profusely thanking his large companion. _White, _Ulquiorra decided long ago, _is a fine color._

Still, he wished Hagrid would have let him buy the young and reclusive vampire bat hanging in the shadowed corner. They would've gotten along marvelously.

* * *

Harry stares at the slim smooth wood in his hand. _It's brother gave me my scar? _Ulquiorra rolls the wand over in his palm, walks up to the counter, and pays for it. _Doesn't matter at all. Not really._

_

* * *

_

He follows the family of ridiculously bright haired individuals and watches as the run straight threw a solid brick wall without a care in the world. He also notices that no one else notices them. He resists the urge to face palm.

_Humans._

* * *

One of the bright red haired individuals asks to sit down in his compartment. Ulquiorra allows it, and his fellow classmate introduces himself as Ron Weasely. _What an unfortunate name, _Ulquiora thinks as he introduces himself as Harry Potter. Like every other wizard, Ron is awed by his name and the conversation soon drifts away to an awkward silence.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" An elderly woman passing by asks with a cart of food. Ulquiorra is hungry and walks past Ron, who mutters something about a sandwich. Curious of these strange treats, Ulquiorra buys some of everything. Ulquiorra can see the incredulity and envy of Ron's eyes and offers to share. _Envy,_ Ulquiorra remembers, _is simply awful._

* * *

Ulquiorra admits that he likes this boisterous red haired boy. Loud and friendly, he adds a certain brightness to Ulquiorra monotone life. Not to mention, he is a wonderful encyclopedia for the Wizarding World.

* * *

A rat faced blond enters their compartment with two large moronic looking boys. _He seems like a prick._ Ulquiorra determines. The rat says his name is Draco Malfoy, and Ulquiorra mentally winces. _And I thought Weasely was an unfortunate name. _He wonders, and Ron must be thinking something similar as he makes a choking noise which is obviously a laugh. Malfoy is prideful, Ulquiorra notes, as he comes back with a scathing comment about the boy's family. Ulquiorra thinks he is a coward for making such a remark about the family and not the person himself. Ron's rat bites one of the larger boys, Crabbe or Goyle (_What are with all these terrible names? _He thinks) and they retreat.

_Prick. _Ulquiorra decides.

* * *

Ulquiorra puts on the scruffy hat and waits. _Difficult, very difficult. _The hat whispers in his mind. He whirls around in his stool, searching for the voice before he settles down, once he realizes it's all there in his head. _Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes-and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting...So where shall I put you? _NOT Slytherin, Ulquiorra asks, because frankly, he's gotten rather bored of all the manipulative nonsense. Plus, they were so damn irritating. _Not Slytherin eh? You could be great, you know, it's all here, in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that._ **NOT** Slytherin please, Ulquiorra thinks, ignoring that the Hat totally copied his line. He figures it would be a bad idea to piss the Hat off. _No? Well, if you're sure... _Pretty sure, Ulquiorra thinks decisively. _Better be..._

"_**GRYIFFINDOR!"**_

* * *

Ulquiorra has missed being able to fly. When he was with Murciélago, he never truly appreciated the wonder of being able to fly. The wind rushes threw his hair as he soars upward on the scruffy broom. He is a good flier, and much superior to Malfoy. They both know this, and Malfoy throws the Remembrall towards the ground. _How simple. _Ulquiorra scoffs, and pulls a fantastic dive and retrieves the ball with little effort.

"HARRY POTTER!"

_Dammit._ Ulquiorra thinks.

* * *

Ulquiorra makes the Gyriffindor Quidditch Team.

_...Well. ...That was lucky._

* * *

He and Ron run into the girl's bathroom and see a disgusting monster, which Ulquiorra figures is the troll. His human body is weak, and he knows little spells. So, he does the most idiotic thing in attempt to save Hermione's life.

So idiotic, that he thinks he is in the same league of stupidity as Kurosaki Ichigo. He decides after the battle that he will pretend he NEVER, EVER thought that.

He grabs the trolls club, swings onto his shoulders, and accidentally shoves his poor wand up the beasts' nose. "Ew." Ron grimaces. Ulquiorra agrees. The troll shakes his head wildly in attempt to throw Ulquiorra off, and when that fails, he grabs him by the ankle and swings Ulquiorra to hang upside down in front of the monster and Ulquiorra dangles helplessly above the floor. "DO SOMETHING!" He yells at Ron, who is just standing there like a complete moron. "What?" Ron asks, because some part of Ulquiorra notes, on some level, that there isn't really much his friend can do at the moment.

The rest of Ulquiorra, however, is less sympathetic and doesn't give two shits about Ron's plight.

"ANYTHING!" Ulquiorra answers, because really, anything would be really helpful right about now. He bends upward, the troll's club brushing the hairs on his neck and the bastard swings to bash his head in. _Fuck._ Ulquiorra thinks. Dimly, he hears Hermione say, "Swish and Flick!"

"Wingardium Leviosa!" The club is lifted out of the troll's hands and is raised higher and higher until it turns over and falls on his skull with a loud crack. It collapes and drops Ulquiorra in the process. Ulquiorra rises from the ground and the three of them crowd around it and stare.

"Cool." Ron says. Ulquiorra agrees and retrieves his wand from the troll's nose.

* * *

It is Christmas, and Ulquiorra gets presents. He stares at the small pile, blinking before he pulls his lips into a wide 'Harry-esque' smile. He mustn't ruin the day by not maintaining his mask. Rushing out of bed and donning his bathrobe, he picks up the first present curiously. He has never received a real present before, except a small gift from the woman and he is not completely sure that was supposed to be a present anyway.

_"Ulquiorra, You don't know what a present is?"_

_"No. And the concept seems pointless and a waste of one's time."_

_"But, it's wonderful! It's a person's gesture of affection and love! Receiving and giving presents feels great!"_

_"Foolishness. I will return in one hour, woman."_

_He returns when the woman is sleeping. He notes that she ate her meal, and he nods to himself satisfied. Taking care to avoid looking at her sleeping form, which he has found takes a ridiculous amount of willpower, he picks up the dishes and places them on the cart. He is about to leave when he notices a neat paper crane on the table, with a simple __**To: Ulquiorra, From Orihime **__written __on the wing. Picking it up, his hole burns pleasantly and peculiarly; a occurrence that has happened several times to him since the woman was brought to Las Noches. Drawing up straight and brushing off the strange sensation (as usual), he turns on his heel and leaves with the nameless Arrancar servant._

_He never could explain to himself why he pocketed and kept the small and worthless piece of paper.__  
_

Unwrapping the package, he revels Hagrid's present: a rough wooden flute. Ulquiorra raised a eyebrow and blew it. It sounded a bit like an owl. Not very useful, but still, it was a nice gesture, Ulquiorra admitted and realized that the woman was correct about the notion of gift giving/receiving.

...As usual.

The muggles gave him a 50 pence piece.

...Nice.

He gave it to Ron, who seemed strangely interested in it. Ron's mother made him some candy and a emerald green sweater. Holding up the soft material, Ulquiorra was pleased with the gift. The color suited him splendidly, though he was unsure _why _she bothered making him a present when they only had met once for the span of about 40 seconds. A large amount of chocolate frogs were received from Hermione, which Ulquiorra was relatively satisfied with. He had gotten a little addicted to collecting the cards inside. Grabbing his last present and carefully unwrapping the paper, he was startled at the smooth, almost liquid, fabric slither out onto the floor. Ron gasped, "I've heard of those. If that's what I think it is- they're really rare, and _really _valuable." Ulquiorra picked it up, fascinated. "What is it?"

"It's an invisibility cloak. I'm sure it is-try it on." Ulquiorra draped the cloak over his shoulder and started as Ron gave a yell of triumph. Ulquiorra glanced down and his eyes widened when he could not see his feet. Dashing to the mirror, he was surprised (and slightly disturbed) to see his head floating in midair. Shuddering just a bit, he turned when Ron exclaimed that a note fell out of the cloak. Removing the cloak, Ulquiorra picked up the letter and read the words with difficulty.

What was with this handwriting? It was so damn hard to read.

_**Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. **_

_** Use it well.**_

_** A Very Merry Christmas to you.**_

Ulquiorra blinked.

_...Huh._

**

* * *

**

Ulquiorra glanced around the large spacious room and walked swiftly over to investigate the only object in the room besides desks. It seemed to be a large mirror._I show not your face but your heart's desire _Ulquiorra translated from the _erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ gibberish. _Damn wizards and their lack of actual English._ Ulquiorra thought peevishly. Now, Ulquiorra was no idiot, but due to his thirst for knowledge and his natural human curiosity, he looked into the mirror anyway. Ulquiorra, years later, would look back at this moment and (mentally) face palm at doing something so self destructive.

He would also, at this point, conveniently forget about the whole Himself VS. Kurosaki Ichigo fiasco.

Stepping in front of the mirror, he stared uncomprehendingly, which soon turned into stares of longing. Long sunset hair and gray doe eyes stared back at him warmly, a dazzling smile lighting up her face. She looked happy. Ecstatic. All for him. Ulquiorra raised his hand until his fingertips ghosted over the glass surface, coming to a halt to rest over the reflection, who mirrored his actions.

_I love you, Ulquiorra._ She mouthed to him and his heart ached.

"...Onna."

* * *

Ulquiorra was drawn to the mirror just like he had been drawn to the woman back at Las Noches. Every night he would return to fill up on the reflection's whispers of love and devotion, and he absorbed her words hungrily. Sitting in front of the mirror, he was for a very long time, truly happy.

"Back again-Harry?" Ulquiorra turned, eyes wide, at the sight of Albus Dumbledore sitting on a desk. "I-I didn't see you, sir." Ulquiorra said, embarrassed and cautious at the man's appearance. Dumbledore was smiling. "It's funny how nearsighted one can become turning invisible." Ulquiorra stared. "I expect that you realize what this mirror does?"

"It shows what you want. Your deepest and darkest wish." Ulquiorra answered softly. Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Yes. You must remember Harry, that this mirror does not give us either knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again."

Ulquiorra stared back at the Mirror, a longing glance at his woman before wrenching his head away. "Yes, sir. I understand."

It wouldn't do him any good to linger for a reflection anyway.

* * *

"Nicholas Flamel," Hermione proclaimed with a sense of unnecessary drama (at least in Ulquiorra's opinion) "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!" Ulquiorra had heard of that in his last life. Myths, stories, and legends of a stone that would make you immortal. It sounded ridiculous to him the first time he had heard of it and this was no different. _Death isn't so bad. And that is merely running away from something unavoidable. Just suck it up. _Were Ulquiorra's personal thoughts, but glancing over at Ron and seeing his baffled expression, he decided to play the fool as well to fit his Harry persona.

"The what?" He and Ron asked simultaneously. Hermione rolled her eyes, "Honestly, don't you two ever read?"

_Honestly, don't **you** ever do anything **besides** read? _Ulquiorra thought, a tad insulted.

* * *

Ulquiorra dashed through the halls. _Damn!_ Hagrid had given away the secret to pass "Fluffy" and now Snape would steal the stone. McGonagall was no help, so there was only one thing to do.

_You want to steal that stone? _Ulquiorra thought. _Well, too bad. **I'm **going to steal it first._

* * *

Ulquiorra jumped and landed on a pile of what felt like cushions, which he soon determined was some type of plant probably there to cushion the fall. _Well, that could've been worse. _He mused as Ron and Hermione landed next to him.

* * *

_Me and my adolescent big mouth._ Ulquiorra moaned within his head as the Devil's Snare encased his legs and chest in a death grip. "What did Professor Sprout say?-It likes the dark and damp-" If he could, Ulquiorra would have either rolled his eyes or smacked her in the head.

Probably both.

"So light a fire!" He choked as the Devil Snare began to creep up his neck.

"Yes-of course- but there's no wood!" Ulquiorra actually choked on his own saliva. _**SERIOUSLY?**_

**"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" **Ron roared. **"ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?" **Ulquiorra sighed in relief as Hermione _finally _relocated her brain and created a jetball of flames and the plants began to retreat. _Saved. ...By Ron. ...That's kind of like being saved by Grimmjow._ Ulquiorra thought depressed.

_We are __**SO**__ screwed._

* * *

Ulquiorra grasped the fluttering key in his hand and unlocked the door, releasing it soon after the door swung open.

_Well, that was easy._

* * *

_That's one large chessboard._ Ulquiorra thought and twitched. When he thought of chess, he thought of Gin, which led him to think of Aizen. And he really didn't like Aizen since he realized years ago that Aizen didn't give a shit about him and he was his bitch.

Aizen's _bitch._

Ulquiorra shook himself out of his thoughts and asked, but only because _someone_ had to ask even though the answer was obvious, "What do we do?"

"It's obvious isn't it?" Ron said. _Well, no shit. _Ulquiorra thought. "We have to play our way across." Pieces were taken from both sides and soon Ulquiorra realized the only solution. Ron noticed as well. There were protests, of course, Ulquiorra had grown rather fond of the red haired moron.

One step forward, and Ron was taken.

Ulquiorra moved.

Checkmate.

* * *

Ulquiorra stood awakwardly as Hermione hugged him. _Uh..._

"You're a great wizard, you know." _Conversation!_

"Not as good as you." A lie. Ulquiorra didn't want to be in the spotlight anymore then he had to, so he pretended to be rather average when it came to magic. It was working pretty well, he thought.

"Me! Books! And cleverness!" _That's a little egotistical. _ "There are more important things- friendship and bravery and-oh Harry- be careful!"

He watched as she walked back through the other door and picked up the smallest bottle. _So dramatic. _He thought, though not irritatedly.

* * *

_...Holy shit._ Ulquiorra thought that was a acute description of the scene before him. Of course. Quirrell was the last person he thought would team up with Voldemort, so that _had_ to be the person who was actually joined up with him. Duh. Ulquiorra could sense another presence. Like Shinigami and Arrancar, wizards had a decent amount of reistu.

A group of humans somehow discovers they had it, call it magic, and BAM! You get modern wizards.

Ulquiorra walked forward, hands in his pockets, as Quirrell called him over, dread pooling in his stomach as he walked closer and closer to the Mirror of Erised. Stepping in front of the mirror, he ignored Quirrell's questions of "Well, what do you see?" and stared. There was Orihime of course, smiling that beaming beautiful smile. She was acting differently, however. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and her arms were crossed behind her back, eyes brimming with an untold secret. She brought her fingers up to her lips in a gesture that said "Shush!" and made a "Come here!"motion to someone outside the frame. Ulquiorra stared at his carbon copy in the mirror as he appeared and approached her. He was smiling softly, and they embraced lovingly. Ulquiorra was a little envious, but he noticed that as they were hugging, Orihime slipped a ruby red stone into his reflection's pocket, smiling mischievously. Ulquiorra felt the stone fall into his own pocket and noted that it was very cool and smooth.

"Well, what do you see?" Quirrell demanded impaitently. Ulquiorra stared up at him. "Um, I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've just won the house cup." That seems like something Harry Potter would want. Quirrell, the dumbass, bought his quite obvious lie and pushed him aside. Ulquiorra turned away and began to swiftly make his exit.

_"He lies...he lies." _Ulquiorra stopped. _Crap._

"Let me speak to him...face to face." Ulquiorra watched in dull curiousity and Quirrell unwrapped his turban and he stared into the red eyes of Lord Voldemort. Ulquiorra blinked. _...This is the man that killed my parents. Are you serious?_ "Harry Potter..." Voldemort whispered. "See what I've become? Mere shadow and vapor...I have form only when I share another's body...once I have the Elixar of life, I will create a new body...Now why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?" _Okay. Time to get the hell out of here._ Ulquiorra made a run to the exit, but with his limited knowledge of magic combined with his human body he was beyond screwed.

He felt Quirrell grab his wrist and he turned, his forehead burning, trying to escape. "SEIZE HIM!"

"MY HANDS!" Ulquiorra stared, bewildered at Quirrell's hands. Shaking himself, he made another dash for the exit but Quirrell pinned him down, hands on his throat. Ulquiorra could barely see, but he noted that Quirrell couldn't touch him without suffering severe pain. Taking in this critical development, Ulquiorra reached up and grabbed Quirrell's wrist tightly, his world fading.

All he heard were howls of pain, screams of "SEIZE HIM!" and cries of "Harry! Harry!" His world drifted to black and he fell, down a dark chasm.

"Harry! Harry!"

_Ulquiorra! Ulquiorra!_

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra awoke in a comfortable bed and to come face to face with candy. A LOT of candy. And his first thought was, naturally, _What the hell is with all the candy? _That's when Dumbledore approached and explained everything; the mirror, Voldemort, Quirell, and his mother's sacrifice. After speaking and explaining to Ron and Hermione about what happened down there and finally being left alone, Ulquiorra thought one very simple, yet strong thought.

_I suppose I won by default._ Nodding to himself and deciding to train harder in the future, he rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

Ulquiorra blinked at the small photo album that Hagrid bestowed upon him. "Do you like it?" Hagrid asked hopefully.

Ulquiorra didn't have to say anything. He always loved knowledge of the past, and this was no exception.

Hagrid smiled.

* * *

Ulquiorra was known back in Las Noches to be cold, apathetic and the perfect soldier.

Or as Grimmjow Jaggerjaques, Sexta Espada, put it, Ulquiorra was,"The Douchest Douche of all Douches in the entire history of Douche-dum."

Ulquiorra, however, was also know to have a bit of a malicious streak as well.

Ulquiorra grinned, much to the confusion of his two friends. "_They _don't know I'm not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."

* * *

**A/N: Review! Can you guess why Year 1 is gluttony? ****Hint: Gluttony is the over-indulgence and over consumption of anything to the point of waste**


	3. Year 2: Pride

**A/N: This is the longest thing I have ever written in my entire life. 34 pages, people. _34 pages._ That's how much I like you guys. For the most part I stayed true to the book execpt for the Basilisk appearance (in the book it was green, I went with the movie description), the statue of Slytherin in the Chamber (in the book it was a full body statue, I went with the movie where it's just his head), and Dobby's becoming free scene (in the book Harry puts the diary _in_ his sock and I don't think you could cram a book into a sock).  
**

** Could anyone guess why year 1 was Gluttony? To be honest, I ran out of sins. But Ulquiorra does kind of glutton (****over-indulge/over consumes) the Mirror of Erised's image. So...**

**I don't own Harry Potter or Bleach.  
**

_**Year 2: Pride**_

Ulquiorra stared. And stared some more, just to be completely sure of what he was seeing. But alas, his vision had not suddenly failed him, nor did he finally succumb to dreadful, though not unlikely, seeing how completely and utterly hellish his life was, insanity.

And no, he was _**NOT**_ high.

The creature stared back at him owlishly with large green eyes, that reminded Ulquiorra of tennis balls. Ulquiorra fidgeted. _Doesn't it ever blink?_ He thought, extremely uncomfortable. He suddenly realized how his former fellow Espada must of felt when he talked to them.

...Poor bastards.

"Er-Hello." Ulquiorra said awkwardly. "Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice and Ulquiorra was afraid his 'Aunt' and 'Uncle' would hear, but they were either ignoring him or they were completely deaf. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir ... Such an honor it is . . . " Ulquiorra blinked. "Uh...Thank you." he said dumbly, because they wasn't much one could say besides that in this situation. "_Who_ are you?" he asked, thinking;

_Please don't be some form of hollow mutation, Please don't be some form of hollow mutation, **Please** don't be some form of hollow mutation._

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf" The creature, which was a house elf, apparently, said promptly. Ulquiorra stared some more, which seemed to have become a rather frequent occurrence since he was reincarnated. "My apologies, but this is not the most convenient time for you to be here." Ulquiorra said, wincing at the sound of Petunia's high false laughter. The elf hung his head, and Ulquiorra cursed his human heart. _Damn guilt._ "Not that I'm not pleased to make your acquaintance," Ulquiorra backtracked hastily, "but can you tell me _**why**_ you are here, exactly?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby vigorously. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir... it is difficult, sir... Dobby wonders where to begin..." Ulquiorra pointed towards his bed, and offered him a seat. You can't go wrong with manners, right?

Apparently, you could, since he started bawling quite loudly when he did. "I am sorry," he whispered, "I did not mean to offend you or anything -"

"Offend Dobby?" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard - like an equal-" He then continued to wail and Ulquiorra cast a frantic look towards the door. "You cannot have met many decent wizards then." Ulquiorra said lightly, hoping to brighten the mood. The house elf nodded slowly, before running to the dresser and bashing his head against it, screaming, "BAD DOBBY! BAD DOBBY!" Skidding across the room, Ulquiorra wrenched Dobby from his wardrobe. "What are you _doing?_" he hissed, casting frequent glances to the door. "Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir..." Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Your...family?" Dobby nodded. "The wizard family Dobby serves, sir... Dobby is a houseelf - bound to serve one house and one family forever." Ulquiorra gave him a look of incredulity. "Can you not just leave?" he asked and Dobby shook his head. "A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free ... Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir..."_ Wow, and I thought __**my**__ life sucked. _

"_Welcome, new comrade."_

"_Come with me, woman."_

"_I have no reason to live now that you have defeated me."_

"_Are you afraid?"_

_...Okay, my life __**does**__ suck, but wow._ "Uh, is there anything I can do to help?" Ulquiorra offered, mostly of out pity, which he came to regret. A lot, since he started crying again. _God dammit._

"Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later... Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts." Ulquiorra looked at him like he was insane. He probably wasn't too far from the truth, actually. "You are joking. I do not belong in the muggle world. This place sucks." Ulquiorra deadpanned.

"Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger." Dobby insisted and Ulquiorra was fed up with this house elf. "First off, I'm _always _in mortal danger. And secondly, _why?_" Ulquiorra said curiously. "There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. Ulquiorra sensing another one of Dobby's masochistic punishments, quickly grabbed Dobby's arm to stop him. "Who is plotting these things?" Dobby shook his head and trembled. Ulquiorra was getting irritated. "You cannot tell me."

"I must go back to Hogwarts. It is the only place I have I have got friends. " Ulquiorra continued.

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly. Ulquiorra frowned. _What? How did he-_

_**Oh, HELL no.**_

"You have been intercepting my letters!" Ulquiorra snarled angrily. "That iss illegal, dammit!" He continued as Dobby pulled out a thick wad of envelopes and Ulquiorra could see Hermione's tidy handwriting and Ron's practically unreadable chicken scratch. Hell, there was even Hagrid's scribble...

"Give them to me." Ulquiorra demanded dangerously. Dobby jumped out of his reach as he made a grab for his letters. "Promise me that you will not return to Hogwarts!"

"No! And give me those, you trash!" Ulquiorra growled, falling back onto his old habits and lunging for the anxious house elf. "Harry Potter mustn't be angry... Dobby hoped ... if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him ... Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir..." Ulquiorra ignored him and made another grab for his letters. _Damn pubescent 12 year old body!_ "Harry Potter gives Dobby no choice." The diminutive creature said sadly, before yanking open the door and sprinting downstairs. Cold horror rose in Ulquiorra's chest.

_**...FUCK.**_

* * *

Ulquiorra glared listlessly at the bars on his window. He heard a rustling and his glare increased tenfold at the sight of the pathetic bowl of soup pushed through the cat door.

_I hate my life._

_

* * *

_

_...He has a flying car. _Ulquiorra thought dully, as he stared into the gaping face of Ron Weasely. _A flying fucking __**car.**_ "You have a flying car." He said.

"It's Dad's. We're borrowing it. Why haven't you answered my letters? I've asked you to come over and stay with us twelve times, and then Dad says you've been given an official warning about underage magic-"

"How does he know about that?"

"Works at the Ministry. We've come to take you home with us." Ron answered.

"You cannot use magic either-" Ron grinned. "Don't need it. Got them with me." Nodding to Fred and George in the front seat while tossing him a rope. "Tie this around the bars." Ulquiorra complied. _I have a bad feeling about this._

* * *

_This...is very awkward. _Ulquiorra thought whilst struggling to escape his uncle's grip on his leg. The awkwardness was because the Weasely's were pulling on his arm's, making it a "Tug o' Ulquiorra". "Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "He's getting away! HE'S GETTING AWAY!"

_Oh, screw this._ Ulquiorra thinks, and using his other leg, roundhouse kicks his uncle's face and climbs hastily into the car. "Put your foot on it Fred." Ron yells and they shoot off towards the moon. Ulquiorra sticks his head out of the window, to see the Dursley's flabbergasted faces and smirks. "See you next summer." He murmurs and smiles at Hedwig, finally free, following them in the sky.

* * *

Arthur Weasely beamed. "Good lord, is it Harry Potter. Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about -"

"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night." shouted Mrs. Weasely. "What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasely eagerly. "Did it go all right. I - I mean," he faltered as sparks of anger and possibly death flew from Mrs. Weasely's eyes, "that - that was very wrong, boys - very wrong indeed ..."

Ulquiorra liked them. They were amusing, at least.

* * *

Ulquiorra had very mixed feelings about Ginny. On one hand, she was Ron's blushing, obsessive (and annoying) baby sister that he knew he would never care for in a romantic sense. On the other hand...it was the complete opposite. Luckily, the first hand was a LOT stronger then the second one.

It was the hair, he decided. He must have a thing for red hair. Well, he had a thing for Orihime's hair, and Ginny's hair was a close shade. It was a little depressing, how the mere color of someone's _hair_ could attract him. But she was, in ways, similar to his woman. Red hair (too red, but not red enough to completely avoid his notice), and accident prone (at least around him). Ulquiorra decided there was only one solution.

Deny the problem and pretend he felt absolutely nothing.

It seemed to be working, and there was no reason it shouldn't for the rest of his life.

Four years later, Ulquiorra would bash his head against a wall for forgetting about puberty and that yes, unlike Orihime, most girls were usually still in the process of developing breasts and hips during school.

* * *

As Ulquiorra escaped Borgin and Burke's, he came to the conclusion that wherever the hell he was was a lot like Las Noches, only dirtier and in Las Noches, if you wanted to prey on the weak or pick a fight you actually _told_ the person. Or at least made it _really_ obvious. Unlike this lady, who was trying to get Ulquiorra to go with her, playing the 'Simpering Old Lady "Are you lost, dear child?" Card'. As Ulquiorra was being dragged out of the place, he winced at the bloodcurdling shrieks from the leering old witch.

He then came to another conclusion.

For a, ridiculously white, hell hole, Las Noches was actually not the bad (hygienically). And it's name was a hell of a lot more impressive then 'Knockturn Alley'.

* * *

Ulquiorra Schiffer utterly _loathed_ Gilderoy Lockhart. Seething, he glared up at the man as he rambled on and on about how great he was. He was about to slip away, buy his books, and make a run for it when Lockhart gave him a 'little' shake that nearly knocked off his glasses and exclaimed,

"...Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Ulquiorra's chest tightened in horror.

_**...NO.**_ _**Murciélago**_, _**Jesus, or anyone else that's listening, please strike this man down with lightning so I'll be spared the agony of being taught by this moronic, arrogant douche.**_

Of course, nothing happened. Ulquiorra's eye twitched.

_I REALLY hate my life._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra stared into the smug sneering face of Lucius Malfoy as he and Mr. Weasely exchanged 'pleasantries'.

_Prick. _Ulquiorra decided.

_

* * *

_

After several hours of being in a absurdly hot car, and not to mention he was very thirsty, the car began to smoke. Of course, Ron then lost control and flew it into a _tree_.

A tree intent on _killing_ them. _Of course we land in a tree that wants to __**murder**__ us. _Ulquiorra barely resisted the urge to face palm. Mainly because he was too busy trying to not get killed by the Whomping Willow.

_I REALLY, __**REALLY,**__ hate my life._

_**

* * *

**_

Ron and Ulquiorra faced the disappointed, pissed off, and smug faces of Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape (respectively). Ulquiorra sighed. _Knew this would end up horribly. I wanted to send Hedwig, but noooooooo. We **had** to take the damn car._

* * *

_A first year is stalking me_, Ulquiorra griped.

..._Stalking_.

…_**ME. **Of all the people to stalk, why **ME?**_ He glanced behind him warily and picked up the pace.

_Damn Colin Creevey._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow at Malfoy's insult. _What the hell is a 'Mudblood'?_ He stared at Ron's extreme over reaction (in Ulquiorra's opinion). Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" There was a loud bang, a flash of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's broken wand and hit him in the stomach, sending him flying. "Ron! Ron, are you alright?" Hermione asked worriedly. Ron said nothing. He merely sat up, made a sick face (at this point Ulquiorra began to back away and threw a hand out to stop anyone from approaching) and vomited.

A slug. Several, actually.

_Ew._ Ulquiorra thought, grabbing Ron's arm (Hermione got the other one) and rushing him to Hagrid's, ignoring the Slytherins. He glowered back at Malfoy, who was on all fours laughing.

_Prick._

_

* * *

_

Answering fanmail. Lockhart's fanmail. For _**four**_ hours. _Kill me._ Ulquiorra thought desperately.

_"Come ... come to me... Let me rip you... Let me tear you ... Let me **kill** you..." _Ulquiorra blinked and shuddered at the ice cold voice. It reminded him of Ichimaru, but only creepier. _That was coincidental... though not what I had in mind._

"What?" he inquired, looking around the room, disturbed.

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best- seller list! Broke all records!" _Ugh. I HATE this guy. _ "No," Ulquiorra snapped. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?" "That voice that said – did you not hear it?" Lockhart was looking at Ulquiorra in astonishment.

_Suspicious. _Ulquiorra thought as he left Lockhart's office. _But, at least I was able to get the hell out of there._

_

* * *

_

_". . . rip . . . tear . . . __**kill**__ . . ." _Uqluiorra stared at the walls, trying to find the voice. Trotting up the wall, he pressed his ear against it, searching. "Harry, what're you -."

"It is that voice again - shut up a minute -"

_". . . so **hungry** . . . for so long . . ." _

"Listen!" said Ulquiorra snapped, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching him.

_". . . kill . . . time to kill . . ."_ The voice was growing fainter and moving...up? Following his ears, Ulquiorra sprinted down the corridor and up the stairs, shoes pounding the marble steps loudly. Ignoring Hermione's frantic babbling, he jumped the last 2 stairs up to the first floor, still running as he continued to follow the mysterious voice.

"Harry, what're we -"

"Callate!" Ulquiorra snarled, not noticing that in his deep concentration of following the voice that he had slipped back into Spanish. _". . . I smell blood. . . . I SMELL __**BLOOD**__!"_ Ulquiorra's stomach lurched. "It's going to kill someone." He growled and continued to run, up to the second floor. Finally reaching the last passage, Ulquiorra looked around, immediately noticing it. Ron and Hermione came up panting. "Harry, what was that all about? I couldn't hear anything, and _where_ did you learn _Spanish_?" Ulquiorra was already walking forward, ignoring the water sloshing into his shoes from the giant puddles surrounding the area. Approaching the wall, Ulquiorra noted that she wasn't dead, and read aloud, "_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."_ Ron and Hermione from behind him gasped and staggered back.

"M-M-Mrs. Norris!"

* * *

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution." Professor Binns, the most boring teacher on the planet, held his class' rapt attention as he caved to Hermione's demands and told the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school." Ulquiorra leaned forward, sensing he was about to get to the good part.

"The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic." Professor Binn's finished, looking annoyed and wanting to get back to his lesson.

Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir? What exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber'?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control." Professor Binns said offhandedly, looking peeved at the unease that his words caused. "I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster." Students protested, with (perfectly logical, in Ulquiorra's opinion) arguments on why no had found the Chamber but Professor Binns was done. Getting back to his lesson, Ulquiorra's thoughts drifted to the legend.

_Could that voice be the 'horror within'? I wonder, what the hell is going on? _Ulquiorra thought distantly, expertly tuning out Binns' lecture.

_

* * *

_

People were saying that Ulquiorra was Slytherin's Heir. Ulquiorra personally found it rather amusing, though he didn't show it. To think, people thought the he, Ulquiorra Schiffer, would sink so low to set a monster on _school children_.

Ron was very indignant on his behalf, which made it even funnier. At least to Ulquiorra, but his sense of humor was a little skewed compared to his human companions'.

* * *

_What an odd sight. _Ulquiorra mused, watching the spiders move in a perfectly straight line, trying to escape the castle through a crack in the wall. _Very, very odd..._

* * *

Myrtle was...interesting. Ulquiorra thought bemused, as she gave a howl and dove into a toilet. Sighing, Hermione led them out of the bathroom only to be caught by a flustered Percy. The sight of him all red and twitchy was rather funny, Ulquiorra thought as he watched Ron argue with his brother.

_Very_ funny. Watching the results of the argument and Percy's retreating red neck Ulquiorra thought, _Well, he's certainly drunk with power. That cannot end well._

* * *

_A potion that can turn you into someone else._ Ulquiorra remembered that from Snape's lecture a few lessons ago. Ron, of course, hadn't been listening and Hermione had to explain it. _Sounds exciting. _Ulquiorra thought, inwardly smirking. He could use some excitement. Life as a human could be extremely droll, though being a pubescent wizard in training that was quite often in mortal danger helped considerably.

"Snape said it was in a book called _Moste Potente Potions,_ and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library." There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: You needed a signed note of permission from a teacher.

"Hard to say why we'd want the book, really," said Ron, "if we weren't going to try and _make_ one of the potions." "I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the _theory_, we might stand a chance..."

"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that, they'd have to be really thick..." said Ron. Ulquiorra outwardly smirked this time, drawing his friends attention. "What?"

"_I_ know a teacher that's stupid _and_ arrogant enough to fall for that." Ron slowly grinned, realization dawning, while Hermione simply looked confused. "Who?" Ulquiorra and Ron rolled their eyes in unison.

"_Girls."_

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra stared at Lockhart as the brainless moron attempted to boast of his (fictional) abilities as a Seeker, as well as all the other shit he said he was, after signing their permission slip.

_You've ruined Defense Against the Dark Arts, a good portion of my personal life, and you are half the reason why my year completely **sucks.** Don't ruin Quidditch with your pathetic, and very obviously false, boasting, you damn twit._

_

* * *

_

_This Bludger is stalking me too?_ Ulquiorra mentally shouted, as he swerved to dodge the deadly ball, intent on breaking his skull. "Someone's - tampered - with - this – Bludger!" Fred grunted, swinging his bat.

_No shit._ Ulquiorra thought, rolling over on his broom, narrowly dodging once again.

* * *

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" yelled Malfoy as Ulquiorra was forced to do a foolish kind of twirl in midair to dodge the Bludger, and he spotted the Golden Snitch hovering next to Malfoy's ear. Malfoy, didn't notice it. Ulquiorra hung there in midair for a moment too long, completely incredulous at Malfoy's sheer idoicy, for the bludger smashed into his arm and broke it with a loud and skin crawling crack. Wincing, Ulquiorra kept a clear head, having worse battle wounds. "At least I _train_, which is required when one has a reasonable amount of skill. Unlike _you, _who has to _buy_ your position while having a complete and, not to mention, pathetic, lack of talent." He answered breezily, as he used his good hand to zoom towards Malfoy. "You-!" Swerving out of Ulquiorra's way to avoid collision, Ulquiorra had a clear path to the Snitch. Leaning forward, only his legs keeping him from falling, he made a wild grab and smirked smugly he felt the Snitch's fragile wings beat against his fist. Crashing and skidding on the ground, he gazed up at the sky. "We won." was all he said before he passed out.

* * *

A glimmering flash of white greeted Ulquiorra as he awoke. _Aw dammit. _"Fuck off." Ulquiorra groaned, not giving a shit that the fool above him was an authority figure. "Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd of Gryffindors pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm." Ulquiorra's eyes widened impossibly. "NO."

"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times -"

"I really doubt that." Ulquiorra interrupted, trying to escape. "Get away, I'll just go to the Hospital Wing-" A few complicated wand motions later, an unpleasant sensation in his arm and Ulquiorra knew the worst had happened.  
"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? Madam Pomfrey will be able to - er - tidy you up a bit." Standing up and under Ron and Hermione's guide, he chanced a look down at his arm.

His screams of "Estupido Bastardo!" could be heard from the depths of Hogwarts Castle.

* * *

A dueling club. That sounds useful.

* * *

The dueling club... is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. They paired me up with Malfoy.

_Malfoy. _

This can only end horribly.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at Lockhart as he attempted to banish the snake Malfoy had created. Ulquiorra hated snakes, previously have taken the form of a bat and bats and snakes didn't use get along all that well.

Lockhart, of course, did not succeed and managed to sic the snake on the students. It slithered over to the Hufflepuff boy, Justin-something. Quickly striding forward towards the small serpent, one hand grasping his wand loosely, the other hand in his pocket, he called out. "Stop." The snake moved back and forth, hesitating, before retreating to Ulquiorra's pleasant surprise. Turning to the boy, he moved to ask if he was alright, because that was common courtesy. The boy was looking at him in fear, and Ulquiorra's eyebrows furrowed. Really, that wasn't very grateful.

"What are you playing at?" Ulquiorra frowned and eyes shifting, glanced around. Fear, hate, and mistrust painted everyone's face, and Ulquiorra realized that he must have done something very, very, stupid.

* * *

Ulquiorra was a Parselmouth. A wizard with the ability to speak the snakes and serpents. Ulquiorra interest was piqued, but he was disturbed greatly. He generally disliked snakes, and it was because of this he had avoided Ichimaru whenever possible. That boa constrictor he met at the zoo was alright, a very honest and friendly individual.

"It matters, because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent." Hermione informed him seriously as he was mulling this over. Ulquiorra stared.

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something-"

"Impossible." Ulquiorra said, though he realized that genetics had nothing to do with your soul. He could easily be Salazar Slytherin's descendent.

_This could be... problematic._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra stared at the petrified form of Justin-what's his name and Sir Nicholas. Dimly, he heard the clamor of students approaching.

_...Aw, dammit._

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the bright old bird as it _exploded_ and turned to ash. Hearing Dumbledore's explanation, he stared as a baby bird head rose from the ashes.

_...Huh. Well, that was awesome. Especially that the bird was born with immortality, something that Aizen completely **failed** at._

_

* * *

_

Treacle fudge, a Quidditch book, a (Rather nice, Ulquiorra thought admiringly) eagle quill, a new sweater(Courtesy of Mrs. Weasely, of course), and a plum cake (Also from Mrs. Weasely).

Oh, and the muggles gave him a toothpick.

* * *

"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," said Hermione matter-of-factly, ignoring their slack faces. Ron's was slack with incredulity and Ulquiorra's was slack from disgust.

I mean, _**Ew.**_

"And obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Crabbe's and Goyle's; they're Malfoys best friends, he'll tell them anything." It was then that Ron's face also slid into disgust, and Ulquiorra twitched.

"And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him." Hermione continued, reaching into her pockets for something.

"I've got it all worked out," she went on smoothly, ignoring their stupefied, and in Ron's case, slightly green, faces. She held up two plump chocolate cakes. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom closet." Ulquiorra and Ron glanced at each other warily.

"This will not work." Ulquiorra stated bluntly, Ron nodded feverishly in agreement.

They argued, Ulquiorra listing the _many_ things that could go wrong with this terrible, terrible plan.

Hermione left, and Ulquiorra and Ron stared at the two chocolate cakes she had left with them.

_I cannot believe I agreed to this._ Ulquiorra thought dully.

"Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?"

* * *

_...I cannot believe I agreed to this. _Ulquiorra thought incredulously. _ But what I __**really **__cannot believe is that it actually worked._ "How thick can you get?" Ron whispered, amazed at Crabbe and Goyle's sheer stupidity. Ulquiorra nodded as they chewed happily before collapsing backwards as the drugged cakes took over.

The most challenging part of the plan was dragging the two Slytherins into the broom closet. Ulquiorra once again cursed his small human body. Finally succeeding, Ulquiorra yanked several strands of Goyle's hair and removed his shoes, foreseeing that he would need them later. After Ron had also finished in stealing Crabbe's shoes and hair, they sprinted back up to Myrtle's bathroom, where they greeted with black thick smoke.

_Pleasant._

* * *

Ulquiorra stared into the mirror, only to see Goyle staring back at him. _This is, _Ulquiorra mused, _very, very disturbing._ Ron came out of his stall, the perfect image of Crabbe.

_**Very** disturbing._

_

* * *

_

"I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them." Ron's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice, and Ulquiorra, blinking impassively and uncaringly, said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all ...

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you." snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing - last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time ... I hope it's Granger." Malfoy finished wistfully. Luckily, Ulquiorra was a master of concealing his emotions so he remained impassive (though, as Goyle, he just looked clueless).

Ron, however, was not. Sending him a warning glance, Ulquiorra decided it was best to change topics. "Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"

"Oh, yeah ... whoever it was was expelled," said Malfoy. "They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Ulquiorra inquired.

"Azkaban - the wizard prison, Goyle," said Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward." Sadly, Ulquiorra agreed with this wholeheartedly. Malfoy continued that the Ministry had raided his family manor last week, not that Ulquiorra cared.

"Yeah. . ." said Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor -"

"Ho!" said Ron triumphantly, and Ulquiorra barley resisted the urge to face palm or, better yet, bash his head against the table. Settling on a incredulous glare, he stared at Ron as he blushed in embarrassment. Hell, his hair was...even...turning...

**...SHIT**.

* * *

Panting, Ulquiorra and Ron stumbled into Myrtle's bathroom, slamming the door shut behind them. It had been a narrow escape, and they were lucky not to be caught. "Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Ron said, looking on the 'bright' side. Ulquiorra never understood why humans did that, but Ron did have a point. "I know we still haven't found out who's doing the attacks, but I'm going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys' drawing room." Ulquiorra sighed at Ron's one track mind and checked his face in the cracked mirror. He was back to normal. Thank Murciélago, God, Aizen, or whoever the hell ran the universe nowadays .

He slid his glasses on as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's stall.

"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you -"

"Go away!" Hermione squeaked. Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow and traded looks with his bumbling red haired friend. "Huh? What's the matter?" said Ron. "You must be back to normal by now, we are-" Myrtle glided through the stall door, grinning happily. Ulquiorra felt chills. "Ooooooh, wait till you see," she said gleefully. "It's _awful._"

"What's up?" said Ron uncertainly as Hermione emerged sobbing pathetically. "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes and Hermione let her robes fall. Ron backed into the sink.

Ulquiorra couldn't really blame him. He began twitching, though for a _very _different reason.

Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.

She was a cat. An effin' _**cat**_.

**"_I'll show him what you get when you mess around with someone else's prey!"_**

_**"Go fuck yourself."**_

_**"You're awfully chatty today, Ulquiorra!"**_

_Damn Grimmjow. I really hate that bastard.. _Ulquiorra thought mutinously, as he and Ron escorted Hermione carefully to the Hospital Wing, eye twitching at such close proximity to Hermione's fur.

_...I really, really, __**really **__hate that Bastard. Always insulting me, kidnapping __**my**__ woman, locking me up in Caja Negación, __**talking **__to__ my woman, acting out of line, __**touching **__my woman..._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra stared at the sodden small black book. A dark and odd reistu surrounded it and fluctuated as he approached. It appeared to be a diary or some sort of journal. It's powers seemed to be dormant, or laying low so Ulquiorra reached out to pick it up when Ron's arm shot out to stop him.

"What?" Ulquiorra asked irritated. The book wasn't harmful...for now. ""Are you crazy?" said Ron. "It could be dangerous."

"It's a _book_." Ulquiorra deadpanned.

"You'd be surprised," said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated Dad's told me - there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And -" Ulquiorra stared at Ron, exasperated, waiting for him to finish his little rant. When said rant didn't stop, Ulquiorra ducked around Ron and snatched the diary up. Curious, Ulquiorra noted keenly that the date on the cover stated the book was around fifty years old. Opening the diary and glancing at the first page, Ulquiorra read a name aloud in smudged ink. "T.M. Riddle." _At least __**this **__wizard had a decent name._ Ulquiorra thought, noting all the bizarre wizard names he knew (Weasely, Malfoy, Crabbe, Malfoy, Goyle, Malfoy, Longbottom, and did Ulquiorra mention Malfoy?).

"Hang on," said Ron, who had approached cautiously and was looking over Harry's shoulder. "I know that name ... T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."

"How on earth do _you_ know that?" said Ulquiorra asked, impressed that Ron _actually _knew something of relevance to the mysterious events occurring. Not that Ulquiorra thought Ron was stupid...well, to be honest, Ulquiorra _did _think Ron was stupid_._ Only a little bit; he admitted that Ron had his moments. That statement was being proven at this very moment. "Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," said Ron resentfully, and Ulquiorra (metaphorically) sweatdropped. "That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd remember it, too." As Ron finished his explanation, Ulquiorra's (metaphorical) sweatdrop had doubled in size. Giving himself as shake and turning away from Ron, Ulquiorra rifled through the pages, only to find them blank.

"Hmm. He never wrote in it." Ulquiorra murmured, a little confused. If you weren't going to write in it, then _why_ did he buy it? Waste of money. And paper. Eyes roaming the back cover, he noticed it was from some shop in Vauxhall Road, London. "Muggle born." Ulquiorra muttered, as Ron said, "Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose." Shaking his head in amusement, Ulquiorra placed the diary in his pocket for further investigation.

* * *

Hermione returned, completely human (to Ulquiorra's great relief and joy) at the beginning of February. Showing her the diary, the Trio talked about the mysterious book. Ulquiorra and Hermione quickly came to the same and obvious conclusion.

Ron, as usual, did not.

"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened_ fifty years ago,_ was it not?" Ulquiorra explained paitently. "That is what Malfoy said."

"Yeah. . ." said Ron slowly.

"And this diary is _fifty years old_," said Hermione, tapping it excitedly.

"...So?"

Ulquiorra (finally) gave into this instincts. He slapped his hand to his forehead in pure frustration. And then, just to make himself feel better, he slapped Ron upside the head. Which did, by the way, make himself feel much better.

"Oh, Ron, wake up," snapped Hermione. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled _fifty years ago_. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school _fifty years ago._ Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin. His diary would probably tell us everything - where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it - the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?" _No shit._

"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," said Ron, "with just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary." Ulquiorra admitted, Ron did have a point. But Hermione was not deterred. Tapping the diary three time with her wand, she exclaimed, "Aparecium!".

Nothing happened.

Not to be discourage easily, Hermione pulled out a bright red eraser and Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow. "It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said simply and Ulquiorra stared, baffled. _While I admit that seems useful, _Ulquiorra thought, _**why **__ on earth did you decide to buy it? Did you think at the beginning of the school year that we would be trying to unravel a great mystery that holds the well being of our school in it's hands? Granted we are, but** really**. _She rubbed the reveler hard on January 1st.

Of course, nothing happened. Zilch, zip, zero, nada.

Ignoring Ron's doubts, Ulquiorra kept the diary, waiting for it to revel it's true nature.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared in pure, undiluted horror at the pink monstrosity that he called (with affection, no less!) the Great Hall.

_It is like Szayel __Aporro__ died via a horrible massive explosion in this room. _Ulquiorra thought numbly. _And then his secret army of clones all died in the __**exact same way,**__ leaving us with these-these..._

_...Valentine decorations. _Ulquiorra thought with disgust, shuddering. If this was the human holiday of Love, then count him out, Orihime's passion of the holiday be dammed.

And, of course, Lockhart was the culprit.

_I hate him more then Grimmjow, Nnoitora and Ichimaru combined._ Ulquiorra thought murderously.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the diary, eyes narrowed in thought. Thanks to the fool Malfoy, his bag and books had been drenched in scarlet, blood like ink, which he did not remember buying. Why would he buy red ink, anyway? However, the diary was perfectly dry and not even stained. Very peculiar. Experimentally, Ulquiorra took out his quill, dipped it in (normal and **un**blood like) black ink and flicked it over the diary page, watching as several drops fell onto the yellowing paper. Like he suspected, the ink vanished as if being sucked into the book. Dipping his quill once again, he wrote in his neat elegant handwriting (which was boarding on calligraphy), "My name is Harry Potter." He would not reveal his true identity to anyone. Not even a book. The ink glistened on the page, before sinking into the diary. After a moment, words he had never written appeared in response to his introduction in the same ink. "Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?" Ulquiorra's eyebrows shot upwards. He did not expect _that. _ Going with 'the flow', he wrote, "Someone attempted to flush it down a toilet."

"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read. " Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously. If you wanted it read, you would have written in it instead of enchanting it with such complex magic." Ulquiorra wrote, because really, did this Riddle person think he was an idiot?

"...Touche. I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. " Came Riddle's reply.

_I suppose he does think I'm an idiot. _Ulquiorra sighed. Were all humans so inferior when it came to matters of the mind? Images of Ishida Uryuu and Hermione, and of course, his woman, flashed through his mind. _...Never mind. There are **some **intelligent humans out there._ "I would figure," Ulquiorra replied. "As you would hopefully guess, I am currently residing in Hogwarts as well. Dreadful incidents have been happening. This next question is rather pointless, for the answer is obvious, but do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"...You are a Slytherin, correct?"

"No."

"...Are you sure?"

"...I am not going to dignify that with an answer. Could you answer my question, please?" _Moron._

"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned. " Ulquiorra's brows furrowed. _Why wouldn't they imprison the culprit? Suspicious._

"The same event that you have described is happening now. There have been three attacks to date, though luckily, no one has been killed. Who was the culprit in your time?"

"I can show you, if you like, "came Riddle's reply. "You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him." Ulquiorra blinked. Did this memory Riddle think he was _that _stupid? _That is rather insulting._

"Let me show you. " Riddle insisted. Ulquiorra wrote his answer elegantly and neatly, taking the time to choose his words carefully.

"You want me to let you suck me into your diary. A complete stranger, who could quite easily be manipulating me. I have no idea what the process is, and I could even possibly be killed or injured. Do you honestly think I am that stupid?" The words sank in (literally).

"..." Was the reply. Ulquiorra sighed. "Tell me, Tom Riddle. In words, if you please."

"...Very well." Came the obviously agitated reply. "It was my fifth year at Hogwarts. I was called into the Headmaster's office, and we discussed the attacks and the death of the poor girl. Professor Dippet said the school would be closed if the culprit was not caught. I knew who the culprit was, but I had wanted to give him a chance to come forward. No longer having a choice, I cornered the student responsible as he was attempting to smuggle his monster to safety. I gave him one last chance, but I had no choice. I attempted to kill the beast, but it escaped. When I tried to follow, the student stopped me. Naturally, I turned him in and he was expelled." Ulquiorra stared at the diary emotionless.

"What was the monster?" Ulquiorra asked, noticing that he left that crucial detail out of the story.

"It was a hideous beast. It had a vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs. It's many black eyes gleamed and it possessed a pair of razor-sharp pincers." Ulquiorra stared. _That sounds like a spider. ...The monster was a spider? __**Slytherin's **__monster. A __**spider. **_ Deciding to skip pointing out an obvious lie in favor of getting more information from the very shifty book, Ulquiorra moved on to his final question. "Who was responsible?"

The answer that returned was not what he was expecting.

"Rubeus Hagrid."

_...Very suspicious._ Ulquiorra thought.

* * *

Ulquiorra did not believe the diary was telling the full truth. All the facts fit the puzzle, but they did not match the picture. A spider the monster of Slytherin? _Hagrid_ the culprit? If anything, Riddle was trying to cover up the real story by blaming Hagrid. Ulquiorra eyes narrowed, Ron and Hermione discussing the diary's revelations at his sides.

_Tom Riddle...Are **you** the Heir of Slytherin?_ Ulquiorra did not doubt it.

* * *

Stepping into the trashed dormitory with Neville, Ulquiorra stared wide eyed, before walking in slowly. Eyes swiveling around the room sharply, he noticed everything in his possesion was completely trashed. Even his books.

_Okay, _Ulquiorra thought with relish, stepping on a few loose pages of Traveling with Trolls, _at least they did **something **nice. _

Pulling his blanket back onto the bed, he heard Ron, Seamus, and Dean enter the dormitory.

"What happened?" Ron asked, looking around. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "I would assume someone came in and trashed my belongings." Ron was too busy examining Ulquiorra's robes, the pockets were hanging out. "Someone was looking for something." Ulquiorra agreed, tossing his ruined (Ha!) Lockhart books into his trunk and noticed that Riddle's diary was gone.

_...Interesting._ Ulquiorra mused.

* * *

It was a bright morning, perfect flying conditions. As he left the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione to go and collect his Quidditch thing he heard it. He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard it yet again

_"Kill this time ... let me rip ... **tear**. . ."_

"Dammit." He snarled, causing Ron and Hermione to jump in shock.

"The voice." said Ulquiorra, looking over his shoulder. "I just heard it again." Ron looked around, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.

"Harry - I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!" And she sprinted away, up the stairs. Ulquiorra and Ron stared."Why does she have to go to the library?"

"Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging. "When in doubt, go to the library." Ulquiorra tried to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the Great Hall behind him, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch. _Damn. _Ulquiorra thought as he ran to the dorm, grabbed his broom and filed with everyone else to the pitch.

It wasn't until he entered the field that he remembered that Hermione was a muggle born and that the monster was at work.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at Hermione petrified form, her eyes wide and glassy.

_Damn._

* * *

Sneaking out of the school was simple, and soon Ron and Ulquiorra were seated in Hagrid's hut. Watching him as he nervously attempted to pour tea, extinguishing the fire and breaking the pot. Ulquiorra's brow furrowed. "Are you alright Hagrid? Did you hear about Hermione?"

"Oh, I heard, all righ'." Hagrid muttered. Ron and Ulquiorra exchanged glances. There was a knock on the door and the two boys hastily threw on the cloak while Hagrid moved to answer the door. It was professor Dumbledore and a strange man in a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie, purple boots and a lime green bowler hat tucked under his arm. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

"That's Dad's boss!" Ron breathed. "Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!"

* * *

Ulquiorra glared invisibly at the elder Malfoy that entered the cabin. "Dreadful thing, Dumbledore," said Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, "but the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension - you'll find all twelve signatures on it. I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now. Two more this afternoon, wasn't it. At this rate, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an awful loss that would be to the school." He finished smirking coldly.

_Fucking Prick. _Ulquiorra thought angrily.

"If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside -" Ulquiorra's eyes widened.

"But, you should know that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me... Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Lucius escorted Dumbledore out and left Fudge (Another ridiculous name) and Hagrid alone. Taking a deep breath, Hargid said loudly, "If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That'd lead 'em right! That's all I'm sayin'." Ulquiorra stared, face blank, (metaphorical) dots popping up behind him in a horizontal line. _Could you __**be **__anymore obvious? _Ulquiorra thought.

* * *

Ulquiorra and Ron (and Fang) stared (Ron in horror) at the large group of massive spiders.

_...Meh. _Were Ulquiorra's thoughts. One of the spiders called, "Aragog! Aragog!" _Another ridiculous name._ Ulquiorra thought, exasperated. _What is with wizards and such ridiculous names?_

A spider the size of a small elephant emerged, very slowly. There was gray in the black of his body and legs, and each of the eyes on his ugly, pincered head was milky white. He was blind. Ulquiorra twitched. _If he starts blabbing on about the path of the least amount of bloodshed and justice I swear to Murciélago..._

"What is it?" The old spider asked. "Men." The younger spider (which Ulquiorra was beginning to realize that this spider was still a child) responded. "Is it Hagrid?"

"Strangers."

"Kill them." Aragog answered, and while that was rather rash and cruel, Ulquiorra's faith and tolerence of blind people was restored in that one sentence. "I was sleeping..."

"We are friends of Hagrid." Ulquiorra put in, since he, you know, wanted to live. Aragog paused.

"Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before," he said slowly.

"Hagrid is in trouble," Ulquiorra stated calmly. "That is why we have come."

"In trouble?" said the aged spider, and Ulquiorra heard concern beneath the clicking pincers. "But why has he sent you?"

"The school has been led to believe that he has opened the Chamber of Secrets and that he is using Slytherin's monster to attack students." Aragog clicked his pincers furiously, and all around the hollow the sound was echoed by the crowd of spiders; it was like applause, except applause didn't usually make Ulquiorra feel vaguely concerned for his life.

"But that was years ago," said Aragog fretfully. "Years and years ago. I remember it well. That's why they made him leave the school. They believed that I was the monster that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the Chamber and set me free."

Ulquiorra nodded. "As I suspected." Then he turned incredulous. "They actually thought _you _were Slytherin's monster? You are a _**freakin'**_spider. It makes no sense for Salazar Slytherin to use a _spider_ to attack students." Aragog clicked his pincers. "Unfortunately, humans' intelligence is rather pathetic as a whole." Ulquiorra agreed. "Last time, someone was killed. Do you know, by any chance, what killed her?"

"The thing that lives in the castle," said Aragog, "is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. I remember how I pleaded with Hagrid to let me go, when I sensed the beast moving about the school." _So...it's the animal version of Voldemort, huh?_ "What is it?" Ulquiorra asked. More loud clicking, more rustling; the spiders seemed to be closing in on them. _For the love of..._

"We do not speak of it!" said Aragog fiercely. "We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me, many times. The girl was killed in a bathroom." Ulquiorra decided not to press the subject, not with the spiders pressing closer on all sides, intent of most likely feasting on their nice, young flesh. Aragog seemed to be tired of talking. He slowly began to back out into his webbed nest and his children began to close in on a uncomfortable Ulquiorra and terrified Ron. "Very well. Goodbye." Ulquiorra said politely. "Goodbye?" said Aragog slowly. "I think not ..."

"...Excuse me?"

"My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Good-bye, friend of Hagrid."

_Aw, fuck._ Ulquiorra thought, drawing out his wand, ignoring Ron's whimpering as the spiders closed in. _Really wish I could still use cero._ Suddenly, Mr. Weasley's car was thundering down the slope, headlights glaring, its horn screeching, knocking spiders aside. Several were thrown onto their backs, their endless legs waving in the air. The car screeched to a halt in front of Harry and Ron and the doors flew open, beckoning them to enter.

_Convenient. _Ulquiorra thought as he climbed into the car and Ron got them the hell out of there.

* * *

Later, when they reached the dormitory Ulquiorra had a thought.

_...A girl. Who died in a bathroom..._

_Oh. My. Aizen._

_

* * *

_

Three days before their first exam, which was ridiculous, after all the attacks _why _would they be given exams, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted with students calling out their ideas. "Dumbledore's coming back!" several people yelled joyfully. _That would be good news..._

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table. _Unlikely, but..._

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly. _**…**_Ulquiorra face palmed.

Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

* * *

After McGonagall's announcement, Ron didn't think there was any need to go and talk to Myrtle but Ulquiorra thought otherwise. They were being escorted to History of Magic by Professor Lockhart and Ulquiorra knew what must be done.

"Mark my words," Lockhart said, ushering them around a corner. "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be, 'It was Hagrid.' Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary." It was something so foul, so horrible, it took all of Ulquiorra's willpower to do it. And even then it still felt like he would vomit from such a traitorous act.

"I agree, sir." Ulquiorra said through gritted teeth, swallowing down the bile that rose with such words. Ron dropped his books in shock.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. _Kill me..._ "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night ..."

_Seriously. Kill me **now.**_

* * *

McGonagall, having bought Ulquiorra's story of trying to visit Hermione, left them to the Hospital Wing. Standing over her petrified form, they gazed down at their fallen friend. Ulquiorra noticed that in Hermione's right hand, a crumpled piece of paper was in it's clenched grip. "Ron, cover me." Ulquiorra ordered, and began to wrestle the paper from Hermione's grip. After a minute of maneuvering, Ulquiorra slipped the paper out of her hand. It was a paper torn from a library book. Ulquiorra read it aloud, though Ron leaned over his shoulder to read along.

_"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."_ In neat precise handwriting, the word 'pipes' rested beneath the article. _That makes a __**lot**__ more sense. _Ulquiorra mused. "So that's it. The monster is a Basilisk. That makes sense. " Ron gaped. "We discover the answer that the teacher, the Ministry, and the school have been trying to solve with no success and all you say is 'that makes sense'?"

"Well, it does." Ulquiorra pointed out. "That is why I have been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It is because I understand Parseltongue. The basilisk kills people by looking them in the eye. But no one has died because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside, but Colin merely got Petrified. Justin saw the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick. Nick got the full blast of it, but obviously he could not die again. Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. She probably warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first. And that girl pulled out her mirror." Rods jaw had dropped.

"And Mrs. Norris?" he wondered eagerly.

It didn't take Ulquiorra long to figure that out.

"The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom." He answered promptly. "Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection." Ulquiorra smirked, satisfied at finally finding the answer. "Rooster's cries are fatal to it, and Hagrid's roosters were killed. Spiders flee before it, everything fits."

"But how's the basilisk been getting around the place?" said Ron. "A giant snake . . . _Someone_ would've seen. . ." Ulquiorra tapped the piece of paper. "Pipes. The basilisk has been traveling via the plumbing. I hear the voice through the walls. The entrance..."

"What if it's in a bathroom?" Ron added eagerly. "Myrtle's bathroom." Ulquiorra murmured. "We have to inform a teacher."

"The staff room. It's almost break." Dashing downstairs, they arrived at the staff room and entered, not bothering to sit down. Pacing the room, they waited for the bell.

Instead, they got McGonagall's magically magnified voice. "All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teach ers return to the staff room. Immediately, please." Ulquiorra's eyes slid shut in frustration. "Another attack?" Ulquiorra opened his eyes and spoted an ugly wardrobe. Opening it, he climbed inside. "In here. Let us listen in and see what is going on."

"Right!" Ron agreed and climbed in with Ulquiorra. Listening to the pounding footsteps from above, Ron said, "You know, I've never really noticed, but how come you never use contractions?" Opening his mouth to answer, Ulquiorra was (gladly) interrupted by the staff room bursting open as the teacher filed in.

"It has happened," McGonagall told the silent staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself." Flitwick let out a squeal and Sprout hands clasped over her mouth. Even Snape reacted, gripping the back of his chair. "How can you be sure?" he demanded.

"The Heir of Slytherin has left another message." McGonagall said misrably. "Right underneath the first. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever'." Flitwick burst into tears, and Madame Hooch asked, "Who is it? Which student?"

"Ginny Weasely." Ulquiorra blood ran cold, and he felt Ron sink to the bottom of the wardrobe.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said. . ." The door burst open and Ulquiorra mutely growled at the man in the doorway.

"So sorry - dozed off - what have I missed?" A beaming Lockhart asked cheerfully. "Just the man," Snape said snidely. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last." Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I - well, I -"sputtered Lockhart. Ulquiorra felt a nasty and vindictive smirk spread over his lips, despite the situation.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

"D-did I. I don't recall -"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?" Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I - I really never - you may have misunderstood -"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall smiling so sweetly that it was a little scary. _Respect. _Ulquiorra thought approvingly.

"Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last." Lockhart gulped, and once he saw that none of his fellow teachers would help him he said shakily, "V-very well. I'll - I'll be in my office, getting... getting ready." And he left. McGonagall gave the teachers instructions and they left the room, one by one. Ulquiorra and Ron fell out of the closet. Ron whimpered.

"...Ginny..."

* * *

"Harry." said Ron later that evening in the Gyriffindor common room as the sun was sinking over the horizon. "D'you think there's any chance at all she's not - you know..." Ulquiorra did not trust himself to speak. As a former nihilist and current realist, he couldn't see how Ginny could still be alive, and had a knack for speaking painful and obnoxious truths.

"D'you know what?" said Ron. "I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a basilisk in there." Ulquiorra thought it was a stupid plan, and that Lockhart was useless, but it was something, and he agreed. Slipping out of the common room, they made their was to Lockhart's office, night beginning to drape the corridors. Not bothering to knock, Ulquiorra pushed the door open with ease. The room was completely stripped, and open trunks lay scattered, robes of vibrant color folded clumsily inside, and the many obnoxious pictures that lined the walls now lay packed in boxes. "Are you going somewhere?" Ulquiorra asked mildly. "Er, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call - unavoidable - got to go -" Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow at his pathetic babbling.

"What about my sister?" said Ron jerkily. Ulquiorra agreed, reaching for his wand.

"Well, as to that - most unfortunate -" said Lockhart, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I -"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Ulquiorra said bluntly. "Are you seriously going to pathetically flee like some cowardly, lowlife trash?"

"Well - I must say - when I took the job -" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. "nothing in the job description - didn't expect -"

"What about all the things that you have achieved in your books?" Ulquiorra questioned, already knowing the answer.

"Books can be misleading." Lockhart fired back. "You wrote them." Ulquiorra stated.

"Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think Id done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a harelip. I mean, come on -"

"So, you have done absolutely nothing but take the credit from actual competent wizards? As suspected." Ulquiorra muttered.

"Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms." Ulquiorra began twitching. He knew how hard, tiring and painful it was to claw your way to power and fame. To climb to the top. _Fucking bastard..._ "No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog." _You __**must **__be kidding me._ He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left." He pulled out his wand and turned to them. "Awfully sorry, boys, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. Id never sell another book -" Ulquiorra's wand was at the ready, and before Lockhart could raise his, Ulquiorra pointed his wand at the slimy bastard and coldy said, "Expelliarmus." Red light burst from his wand and blasted Lockhart backwards, wand soaring in the air. Ron lept in the air and caught it and tossed it out the window while Ulquiorra held Lockhart at wandpoint. "Come." Ulquiorra ordered, forcing Lockhart to his feet and forcing him out the door. "Where are you taking me?" Ulquiorra smirked evilly. "The Chamber of Secrets. Thanks for asking." Lockhart gulped. Ulquiorra's smirk widened and Ron snickered.

Sweet, sweet vengeance.

* * *

"Oh, it's you," Myrtle said when she saw Harry. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask how you died." Ulquiorra stated simply. Myrtle brightened and giggled happily.

"Ooooh, it was _dreadful_," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then -" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died." Ulquiorra cocked his head curiously. "How?"

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away . . . ." She looked dreamily at Ulquiorra. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses." _Wizard pluses are so bizarre._ Ulquiorra thought. "Where did you see the eyes?"

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet. Ulquiorra walked calmly towards the sink and examined it carefully. Trying the water tap, he noticed a small copper snake engraved on the side. "Ah."

"Harry," said Ron. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue." Ulquiorra closed his eyes, picturing every snake he had ever encountered. The boa constrictor, he black mamba, Halibel's least annoying Fracion...

"Open." He hissed and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Moments later, the sink began to move, and the sink sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into. Ulquiorra gazed into the tunnel and knew what he would do.

"I am going." He said and Ron nodded determined. "Me too."

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile. "I'll just -" Ulquiorra and Ron pointed their wands at him, Ulquiorra smirking nastily. "Oh, I think not." He said loftily. "You see, I still need my vengeance for signing all you fanmail and having to listen to you _talk_ about it." Ron gaped at Ulquiorra. "Seriously?"

"_**Four**_ hours, Ron." Ron looked contemplative for a moment.

"Oh... Yeah, okay then."

* * *

The light from Ulquiorra's wand slid over the shed skin of a gigantic serpant. Ulquiorra estimated that this skin was at least 20 feet long, and he could not tell when it was shed. _That could be a problem._

"Blimey." Ron said weakly and Ulquiorra agreed, turning at the sound of Lockhart's knee falling to the floor. "Get up." snarled Ron, pointing his wand at him, and Ulquiorra realized that Lockhart was perfectly positioned to...

"Ron, get away from him!" Ulquiorra's warning came too late, and Lockhart bowled Ron over, snatching up his wand. "The adventure ends here, boys!" he said, pointing Ron's taped wand at them. Ulquiorra inwardly smirked. _Does he __**really **__think that he will be able to erase our memories from a __**broken **__wand?_ "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body - say good-bye to your memories!" He raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, "Obliviate!" Of course, the wand backfired and blasted Lockhart backwards, causing a cave in.

"Move!" Ulquiorra yelled, as he ran, dust blinding him as he maneuvered around the snake skin. Hearing the rocks come to a stop, he coughed before turning to be greeted by a large barrier of rocks. _Oh shit. _"Ron!" Ulquiorra called. "Ron, are you alright?"

"I'm here!" came Ron's muffled voice from behind the rockfall. "I'm okay. This git's not, though. He got blasted by the wand." There was a dull thud and a loud "ow!" It sounded as though Ron had just kicked Lockhart in the shins. Ulquiorra smirked. "What now?" Ron's voice said, sounding desperate. "We can't get through! It'll take ages..."

Ulquiorra looked up at the tunnel ceiling. Huge cracks had appeared in it. He had never tried to break apart anything as large as these rocks by magic, and now didn't seem a good moment to try, the the whole tunnel could cave in.

"Damn." Ulquiorra muttered, before raising his voice. "We are wasting time. I will go forward. You stay with the idiot-" He heard Ron snicker, "-and try to make an opening. If I do not come back within an hour-"

"I'll see you soon, Harry." Ron's voice cut him off. Ulquiorra nodded. "Right. See you in a bit." Ulquiorra turned on his heel and continued walking, not looking back. Ulquiorra walked for what seemed like ages, when, at last, he crept around yet another bend, and saw a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds. Ulquiorra stared at them, and the emeralds seemed to flash at his presence.

"Open" He hissed, and the serpents parted, the wall parting, and Ulquiorra, wand ready, strode inside.

* * *

He was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place. His footsteps echoed in the damp chamber as he moved forward leisurely. It always paid off to keep a cool head in battle, Ulquiorra remembered. The one time he didn't, he got his ass killed. He drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. It was giant head, ancient and monkeyish, with a long beard and erratic Einstein hair. A small figure lay at the base. A figure with fiery red hair.

"Ginny."

* * *

Ice cold, and her head lolled side to side pathetically as Ulquiorra shook her shoulders. In her hand was a very familiar black book. "Wake up." He ordered, shaking her some more.

"She won't wake," said a soft voice. Ulquiorra head snapped up, and he gently lowered Ginny to the ground. Turning, he came face to a handsome teen with jet black hair and blurry edges. "You are Tom Riddle?" Something more important came to mind. "She will not wake? She is dead." He stated, cold faced, forever the realist/nihilist. "She's still alive. But only just." Tom Riddle was looking at him curiously, and Ulquiorra was sickeningly reminded of the way Szayel Aporro used to look at his subjects. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. "What are you?"

"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years." Giving a noncommittal grunt, Ulquiorra turned back to Ginny, picking her up bridal style and then hoisting her onto his back. Ulquiorra turned back to Riddle, noticing his wand his his long fingers. "Return my wand please." Ulquiorra said softly. Riddle smiled secretly, twirling the wand in his hands. "There is a basilisk." Ulquiorra intoned. "It won't come until it's called." Riddle answered. Ulquiorra sighed. "You are the Heir of Slytherin. As I thought." Riddle looked shocked for a moment, and Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Please. It was terribly obvious. Framing Hagrid, claiming a _spider_ was the monster, you were obviously trying to protect yourself from being discovered." As Ulquiorra unraveled his plot effortlessly, Riddle's face grew more and more slack. "I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," Riddle interrupted. "For the chance to see you. To speak to you." Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. _...Oookay..._

"What did you do to Ginny?"

"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger." Ulquiorra's face lit up slightly as it all clicked. "Ah, I see." Riddle blinked, obviously expecting a dramatic explanation, lording his superior intellect, where Ulquiorra would end up feel helpless and crushed. "Huh?"

"I suppose that Ginny wrote in your diary and that you wrote back?" Ulquiorra asked smoothly. "And that you fed on the energy she gave via her messages and entries to you? Clever, I must admit. Though to listen to the desires of an eleven year old girl must have been tiring. I commend you." Ulquiorra knew how much patience you needed to pull that off, and he was impressed, despite himself. Riddle blinked. "Well, yes. Thank you, I suppose. Yes, I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her. . ." Ulquiorra's eyes widened. "It was Ginny. She opened the Chamber. I assume she did not realize what she was doing, of course." Riddle nodded, a nasty smile on his face. It appeared that he had adapted to Ulquiorra uncanny knack of being a super genius/killing the mood/making all situations awkward, no matter what.

"Yes, It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries ... far more interesting, they became ... Dear Tom," he recited, carefully watching Ulquiorra's face, which was blank. "`I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and 1 don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, l can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me... There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do. I think I'm going mad... I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!'" Ulquiorra stared hard at Riddle, cocking his head to the side a bit in thought...there was something familiar about him...

"It took a long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary. But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet ..."

"And why did you want to meet me? I assume that Ginny told you about me, thanks to her quite obvious affections." Ulquiorra cut Riddle off as he tried to speak again. "But that still hardly makes sense." Riddle's eyes roved over the lightning scar on Harry's forehead, and their expression grew hungry. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to tell you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust -"

"That failed. Trust me." Ulquiorra deadpanned. "It was painfully obvious that you were not telling the truth. I mean, did you think I was a complete moron?" Riddle pursed his lips. "Yes...I realized that you were a lot..._sharper_...then I had predicted."

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent."

"That is very depressing."

Ignoring Ulquiorra, Riddle continued. "He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed ...Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did ..." Ulquiorra smirked. "I am certain Dumbledore saw the truth. He actually has a reasonable amount of intelligence, unlike the rest of the human population."

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," said Riddle carelessly. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years Id spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work." Ulquiorra scoffed. "You call attacking school children with a monster while not having the gall to attack them yourself like a true warrior 'noble'? Pathetic trash." Riddle's face contorted into a scowl. "Besides, no one has died. Not even that annoying cat." God, how Ulquiorra _despised_ cats. "Haven't I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore. For many months now, my new target has been you." Ulquiorra stared at him. Not afraid, or shocked, or even interestedly. Ulquiorra just...stared. He blinked. Riddle coughed and continued.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you. What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters. So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery -"

"Not really. The mystery was painfully easy to solve." Ulquiorra interupted. "Unfortunately, it took forever to find the clues. Not to mention they don't teach anything relevant to the Chamber." _Which would have been helpful_. "-So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait." Riddle continued as if Ulquiorra had never spoken. Ulquiorra could tell he was irritated if the twitching vein in his forehead was any indicator. "She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her ... She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last ... I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter." Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. "Make it quick. I have better things to do then to talk to trash." Ulquiorra inwardly smirked when Riddle twitched. _Ah, the ability to piss my enemies off with mere words. Glad I still have that._ "Well," said Riddle, smiling a forced pleasant smile, "how is it that you a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent - managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?" Ulquiorra noticed an odd red gleam to his eyes as he spoke and it clicked.

_...You have GOT to be kidding me._

"..._You _are Voldemort?" Ulquiorra asked. Riddle blinked, shocked at his identity being found out so quickly. "_Seriously?_ What the hell happened?" Ulquiorra asked incredulously. Riddle fumed. " Did you think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever. I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side. I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch. No, Harry - I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!" Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes. I understand that." Riddle's fury disappeared quickly at that, only to be risen again when Ulquiorra continued talking. "I meant your appearance. You look normal now, but when I saw you last you looked like some poorly constructed Arrancar that was mauled to death and then brought back to life via Szayel Aporro." Nodding to himself, Ulquiorra noted Riddles furious, and very confused, expression. "And yes, I have seen that happen. Another thing," Ulquiorra continued before Riddle could speak. "you are not the greatest sorcerer in the world."

"What?" Riddle snapped. "Extremely sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Even when you were strong, you did not dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you are hiding these days -" _Damn,_ Ulquiorra thought gleefully. _He looks __**pissed.**_

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" he hissed.

"He is not as gone as you might think." Ulquiorra replied calmly. He had belief in Dumbledore. He was like a nice, non evil (though just as manipulative) version of Aizen. Suddenly, music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, and unearthly. Ulquiorra quirked a brow, deciding to set Ginny down. It was obvious he would be here a while. The flame like bird was the size of a swan and it had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle. A second later, the bird was flying straight at Ulquiorra. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Ulquiorra looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye. He dipped his head in greeting. "Fawkes, correct?" The bird crooned.

"That's a phoenix." said Riddle, staring shrewdly at it. Ulquiorra nodded. "Quite."

"And that -" said Riddle, now eying the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat." Ulquiorra glanced down and nodded. "Quite." Riddle laughed and Ulquiorra waited patiently for him to finish. "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

"Safety does little with battle." Ulquiorra quipped. "To business, Harry," said Riddle, still smiling broadly. "Twice - in your past, in my future - we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added softly, "the longer you stay alive." Ulquiorra decided to make this quick. "My mother died to save me." He said bluntly. Silence, and Ulquiorra could almost hear crickets chirping, although he knew there were no crickets down here. Riddle smiled nastily. "That's it?" Ulquiorra nodded. "Yes."

"Yes, that's a powerful counter charm. I can see now ... there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself We even look something alike ... but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That's all I wanted to know." _Well, good for you._ Ulquiorra thought scathingly.

"Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him . . . ." With a chuckle, Riddle walked away towards the large statue. Ulquiorra wasn't stupid. _He is not even going to attack me head on? Coward._

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four. " Riddle comanded in Parseltounge and the large mouth opened, something stirring within it's deapths. Ulquiorra felt Fawkes' wing as it brushed against his cheek when Fawkes took flight. Ulquiorra sighed.

_This is problematic._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra, eyes shut, backed away from the noise the great serpent made as it slithered across the damp floor. Luckily for Ulquiorra, the basilisk was a magical creature, and had a reistu that he could sense. Unluckily for Ulquiorra, the basilisk was a giant serpent that could easily kill his weak human ass. "Kill him!" Riddle hissed gleefully as the great snake moved forward. Ulquiorra backed away, dodging it's great head by diving to the right and rolling away. Unfortunately, Ulquiorra rolled right into the wall. No where else to turn. _Shit._ Waiting for the basilisk to feast on his juicy tender young flesh, Ulquiorra waited, but only heard the sounds of mad thrashing and violent hissing. Cracking his eyes open, Ulquiorra saw the basilisk and it was a impressive sight.

It was enormous, thick as an oak. It's scales were damp and a concrete gray, and it's fangs were long and thin like daggers. Ulquiorra glanced and noticed why it was acting like it suddenly went on some type of drug. Fawkes was soaring above it's great head and then he dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The monster hissed and turned to face Ulquiorra. Two red empty socket stared back at Ulquiorra.

The basilisk was blind.

* * *

"NO!" Harry heard Riddle screaming. "LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU! YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM! KILL HIM!" _Relax, you freak._

Ulquiorra cartwheeled out of the way as the basilisk lunged forward. Not even a breath passed before the serpent whipped his tail and Ulquiorra ducked, something soft hitting his face.

The Sorting Hat. _Eh, what the hell?_ With that thought in mind, Ulquiorra crammed the hat onto his head. _Ah, hello. I need to slay this monster, so if you could give me some help, I would really appreciate __that._ Ulquiorra thought as he rolled sideways, avoiding the basilisk's next strike. The hat didn't answer, but it felt as if something invisible was squeezing it tightly before something hard and heavy hit Ulquiorra's skull. _OW! FUCK!_ Yanking the hat off to see what had bashed him in the head, and felt it was hard and long.

It was a sword.

Ulquiorra stared.

_A sword._

_...Finally, I get a sword._

_

* * *

_

The swords weight was uncomfortable, and the rubies on the hilt were inconvenient and distracting. Ulquiorra missed Murciélago. Attempting to find a point that he could hit without getting injured himself, Ulquiorra soon deemed that impossible. _Damn. Ah, well._ The basilisk lunged straight towards Ulquiorra, and Ulquiorra plunged the sword up the beast's mouth, impaling it's brain. Searing, hot white pain as one of the fangs lodged itself in his forearm. The king of serpents moved back and swayed, the fang snapping off to stay in Ulquiorra's arm, before it fell, dead. Staggering forward, and then back again, Ulquiorra slid down the wall, wrenching the fang out with a nauseating squelch. His sight was going foogy and the room swam. He saw a streak of crimson and orange. Fawkes. "You were fantastic, Fawkes." Ulquiorra murmured, feeling the bird lay it's majestic head on his fatal wound.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter. He's crying." _A creature of beauty and grace crying over my death. How nostalgic. But...there's something I'm forgetting..._

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry." Ulquiorra felt drowsy. Everything around him seemed to be spinning.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged." _Oh, would you __**shut up?**_ "You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought you twelve years of borrowed time ... but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must ..."

...Wait a minute. Ulquiorra remembered dying quite clearly. And when you die, color and shape and clarity, and the feeling in your limbs did NOT come back. _So I am not dying. That is nice._ Ulquiorra turned to Fawkes, the bird's tears sliding over his no longer existing wound. _Ah, that is what I was forgetting._

"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from him...I said get away -" A loud gun like bang came from Riddle and Fawkes took flight. "Phoenix tears..." said Riddle quietly, staring at Ulquiorra's arm. "Of course ... healing powers ... I forgot..."

_Damn, when they decided to call me 'The Boy who Lived' they chose a pretty accurate title._

_

* * *

_

Riddle was pointing Ulquiorra's wand at him as they both stared at the diary Fawkes had dropped into Ulquiorra's lap. Ulquiorra grasped the basilisk fang that had fallen to the floor next to him, placed the diary on the stone floor and-

"No! STOP!"

-drove deep into the heart of Riddle's diary. Riddle writhed and screamed and cursed and then he was gone. Picking up the diary and his wand, he made his way to the dead basilisk and wrenched the sword free. A soft moan. Ulquiorra looked over and exhaled slightly in relief.

Ginny was stirring.

* * *

"Ginny!" Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull her through first. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? How? What...uh, where did that bird come from?" Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Ginny.

"He is Dumbledore's," said Ulquirora, squeezing through himself "How come you've got a sword?" said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Ulquirora's hand. Ulquiorra twirled the sword expertly in his hand. "Long story. Nice is it not?" Ulquiorra said proudly. "Although it is no Murciélago..."

"...No Murci-what-o?"

"Excuse me?"

"You just said-"

"No I did not."

"Yes you-"

"You are hearing things."

"But-"

"Where is Lockhart?" Ulquiorra changed the subject quickly. Ron, still puzzled, jerked his head back. "He's over there. He's in bad shape, come see..."

* * *

"His memory's gone," said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself." Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at them all.

"Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it. Do you live here?"

"No," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Ulquiorra, who smirked before peering up the long tunnel. Glancing over at Fawkes he nodded to the bird. Turning to the others, he tucked the sword into his belt and the wand and diary into his pocket. "Alright, everyone listen. Ron, take Ginny's hand..."

* * *

They hit the wet floor of Myrtle's bathroom, the pipes sliding back into place. Myrtle gaped at them. "You're not dead."

"Dissapointed?" Ulquiorra asked dryly, attempting to clean blood and slime off his glasses. "Oh, well ... I'd just been thinking ... if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver. Ulquirora blanched.

_That is __**beyond**__ disturbing._

_

* * *

_

"First of all, Harry, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you." He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee. Ulquiorra bowed his head. "And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was most interested in you ... " Ulquiorra nodded. "Yes. He said that he and I were quite alike. And I cannot help but think he was right." Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it is true in a way. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand- picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue, resourcefulness, determination, and a certain disregard for rules, but the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor."

"It put me in Gryffindor because I asked it not to put me in Slytherin." Ulquiorra said. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Exactly,"said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Ulquiorra stared at him, not very convinced. "If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this." Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall's desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra examined the sword, turning it over and noticed the name Godric Gyrffindor engraved below the hilt. "Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry," said Dumbledore simply.

_Ah...I see. I suppose I really am a Gryffindor._ Ulquiorra thought with just a bit of pride.

* * *

"What you need, Harry, is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast, while I write to Azkaban - we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too," Dumbledore added thoughtfully. "We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher... Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?" Harry got up and crossed to the door. He had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

There stood Lucius Malfoy, looking furious, and Dobby, covered in bandages.

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly. Lucius almost bowled Ulquiorra over as he strode towards Dumbledore, Dobby at his heels, looking absolutely terrified.

_Prick._ Ulquiorra thought, glaring at Malfoy's back. '_Like Father, Like Son' has never been so accurate. _"So!" he said "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts." Dumbledore smiled lightly. "Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasleys daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too ... Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place." Lucius' eyes narrowed to slits of fury, while Ulquiorra looked on with respect. _Go Professor._

"So, have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile. "Well?"said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary." Ulquiorra stared, not at Malfoy, but at Dobby, who pointed to the diary, then at Malfoy, then hit himself in the head. It didn't take Ulquiorra long to figure it out.

"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry here-" Mr. Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look "-and his friend Ron hadn't discovered this book, why, Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will ..." Malfoy's face was suddenly rather stone like.

"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then ... The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns ... Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise ..."

"How fortunate." Malfoy said stiffly. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed as Malfoy kicked the squealing elf all the way down the corridor. Turning to the headmaster, he asked, "May I borrow that diary, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled.

* * *

The plan was flighty and if Malfoy wasn't so arrogant, there wasn't much chance it would work. However...

"Here is you book." Ulquirorra said softly, shoving the diary into Malfoy's hands. "I am returning it to you. I am no thief, I will have you know." Malfoy gave Ulquiorra a look of pure hate and shoved the diary into Dobby's hands. "You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter," he said softly. "They were meddlesome fools, too." Ulquiorra stared. Malfoy turned and began walking. "Come, Dobby." Dobby moved to follow, but Ulquiorra held him back and said. "Open it." Dobby obeyed, and found Ulquiorra filthy sock folded neatly in the pages.

"Dobby!"

"Master has given a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby."

"What?" Malfoy snarled, faltering when he saw the sock held tightly in Dobby's hand. "Got a sock." Dobby repeated. "Dobby is _**free**_." Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at Harry.

"You've lost me my servant, boy!" Ulquiorra backed away.

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!"

There was a loud bang, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. Glaring up at them, he whirled on his heel and stalked off. "Harry Potter freed Dobby!" said the elf shrilly and Ulquiorra gazed down at him. "Yes. But please do me a favor and promise never to try and save my life again."

Dobby grinned sheepishly.

* * *

They were almost at King's Cross when Ulquiorra remembered something.

"Ginny? What did you see Percy doing, that he did not want you to tell anyone?"

"Oh, that," said Ginny, giggling. "Well, Percy's got a girlfriend." Fred dropped a stack of books on George's head.

_"What?"_

"It's that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater," said Ginny. "That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was, you know, attacked. You won't tease him, will you?" she added anxiously. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes at her naivety.

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early. "Definitely not," said George, sniggering.

The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped.

Ulquiorra pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Ron and Hermione.

"This is called a telephone number," he told Ron, scribbling it twice, tearing the parchment in two, and handing it to them. "I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer. He will know what to do. Call me at the Dursleys'. I cannot stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to. If I do not die from the horror, I will certainly die when I decide to throw myself off a bridge."

"Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" said Hermione as they got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. "When they hear what you did this year?" "Proud?" said Ulquiorra. "Have you lost your sanity? All those times I where I could have died, and I didn't manage it? They will be absolutely furious..."

* * *

**A/N: Review please! I will be going to camp on Friday so no updates for a while. Also, if you can guess why this Chap is the Pride, I might give you a cameo appearance next Chapter! Just do me a favor and tell me your gender. It'll help. **


	4. Year 3: Sloth

**Dudes, I'm back. Hola.**

**'Kay, several things. One, I nearly died writing this chapter. It is so long. 54 pages. 20 pages more than the last one. GAH. Second, yes, Ulquiorra will eventually get his hollow powers/ninja awesomeness back, starting this chappie, actually. Yay! Third, yes Ulquiorra is kind of OOC. He is a human, thus a no longer completely emotionless (but awesome) douche. Plus, he is in a teenage body, the years of hormonal indecision. **

**Thus, I think: Ulquiorra + humanity + hormones = a barely friendly (though still kinda emotionless) Ulquiorra/Harry**

**My opinion, but whatever.**

**We do have winners for the very small pride contest! Yay!**_**Lady Queria,**_** you guessed correctly! Unfortunately, you didn't really tell me gender, so I'm going to assume you're a girl. If, for some reason, you are a guy who decided to call him **_**Lady Queria**_**, my apologies. **_**Enelvon**_**, you also guessed right (and are the only one who gave a vague description of who you are)! Ulquiorra's 'pride' was discovering that he is a true Gyriffindor, ect. **_**Twilighteer1211, **_**came up with great ideas about Ulquiorra's pride of being a intelligent human and Ulquiorra ignoring Ginny thanks to pride. They were better then mine. **

**I own nothing. Absolutely nothing! Well, I own stuff, but nothing Harry Potter or Bleach related. Except the books, which I paid for.**

**Ahem. So, I don't own Harry Potter or Bleach.**

_**Enelvon,**_** like I said, you get a cameo appearance, which will be highlighted in bold. Your fictional cameo will have a odd and amusing fear of pink. _Lady _**_**Queria, **_**you will also get a cameo, though probably less descriptive since **_**Enelvon**_** actually went beyond my request and told me a little about herself. Enjoy ;)**

_**Year 3: Sloth**_

Ulquiorra Schiffer was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he hated the summer more than any other time of year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret. And finally...

...He was the former Quatro Espada of Aizen Sousuke's Elite Army of Arrancar, and the only Arrancar to ever achieve second release.

So, in other words, he was pretty badass.

Oh, and he was a boy wizard in training.

* * *

Ulquiorra's summer had been, per usual, really sucky. There was the Phone Incident-

"_Vernon Dursley speaking." _

"_HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I WANT TO TALK TO HARRY POTTER!" _

"_WHO ARE YOU?" _

"_RON WEASLEY! I'M A FRIEND OF HARRY'S FROM SCHOOL-" _

"_THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE! I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!" _

"_HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE -PEOPLE LIKE  
YOU!" _

-And the Recover Stolen School Supplies Mission-

_Ulquiorra fiddled with the lock as his Muggle 'family' boasted loudly to the neighbors about their new car. They did not have cars back in his day, you could just easily walk. The lock springing open (finally), Ulquiorra snatched up a few supplies, locked the cupboard, and quickly walked back up the stairs. Closing his door quietly, he pulled up his loose floorboard and placed his belongings carefully inside._

_"The things I must do to maintain my sanity and intelligence..."_

_-_And, once again, his birthday forgotten. Now, Ulquiorra really didn't care about his birthday, but to the average human it was a big deal so he added it to the list. Deciding to leave his homework for tomorrow night (or if you think about, tonight since it was around 1:00 am), he carefully put away his ink bottle and quill into his makeshift bag (pillowcase) and placed them underneath the loose floorboard. Glancing out the window for Hedwig, he noticed a oddly shaped creature flying in his direction. Raising an eyebrow, he thought, like on several other occasions;

_Do not be some type of hollow mutation, do **not** be some type of hollow mutation..._

It turned out to be three owls, two of them carrying the unconscious third. Ulquiorra immediately recognized his owl Hedwig, a white beacon of...whiteness. The middle one that was unconscious looked vaguely like a feather duster, and the one on the right was a handsome tawny. The feather duster was Errol, the Weasely family owl. The tawny was carrying a letter barring the Hogwarts crest. After relieving the owl of it's delivery, it ruffled it's feathers and flew off. Turning to Errol, Ulquiorra removed the package and put him in Hedwig's cage for some water, and then removed the package Hedwig was carrying. Opening the package neatly, Ulquiorra revealed a present wrapped in gold with a birthday card. Deciding to open the card first, two pieces of paper fell out. The card and a newspaper clipping. Reading the clipping, Ulquiorra (for a reason he could not explain, since it was not happening to him) felt the corners of his lips tug up slightly. His bumbling companion had a stroke of luck, and his family won a Daily Prophet contest, earning seven hundred galleons.

_Dear Harry, _

_Happy birthday! _

_Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted. _

Really? Ulquiorra thought, amused.

_It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff. I couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year. _

_We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there? _

_Don't let the Muggles get you down! _

_Try and come to London, _

_Ron _

_P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week. _

(Metaphorically) Sweat dropping, Ulquiorra glanced at the newspaper clipping photo, noticing Percy looking particularly smug, his glasses flashing.

_Well. He is certainly drunk with power._ _That will not end well._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra unwrapped Ron's present with precise and efficient movements, revealing what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. Raising a eyebrow, Ulquiorra read the note that came along with it.

_Harry — this is a Pocket Sneakoscope. If there's someone untrustworthy around, it's supposed to light up and spin. Bill says it's rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn't reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night. But he didn't realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup. _

_Bye — Ron _

_Hmmm..._Ulquiorra mused, placing the Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it balanced perfectly. _That will be useful. I could have used one of these when I was under Aizen's command. Shame._

_

* * *

_

_Dear Harry, _

_Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon. I do hope you're all right. I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know how I was going to send this to you — what if they'd opened it at customs? — but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change. I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered; it's so good to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating. There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out, I hope it's not too long — it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for. _

_Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of the holidays. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first! _

_Love from Hermione _

_P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it._

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes at her letter, amused. Opening the package, he fingered the sleek leather broomstick kit. Ulquiorra loved Quidditch, mainly because he got to fly. He missed having wings, even though he never really thought about flying when he did have them. Ulquiorra would greatly enjoy this gift, for he was very neat and precise, and liked to keep his possessions clean and orderly.

* * *

Ulquiorra warily eyed the growling package that Hagrid had sent him. Unwrapping the final coverings, he noticed that it was attractive book with green velvet and a gold title of _The Monster Book of Monsters_.

It was a lovely gift.

Well, it _would_ be if it didn't move across the floor like some type of crab, and snarl at Ulquiorra. _This could be... problematic. _Noticing that its front and back cover worked as a mouth, Ulquiorra walked over to his dresser, and took out a belt from one of the drawers. After shuffling around and searching, Ulquiorra walked towards his desk, crouched down, and stuck a ruler into the dark space beneath. Feeling a sharp tug on the ruler, Ulquiorra pushed the ruler forward, drawing the demonic book into the open. Diving, Ulquiorra snatched the book, and with _in_human speed belted the book shut. The book shuddered furiously, but could no longer move its 'jaws'. Ulquiorra set it down on the bed and picked up Hagrid's card.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! _

_Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you._

_Hope the Muggles are treating you right. _

_All the best, _

_Hagrid._

Ulquiorra got a bad feeling from the fact that Hagrid thought a biting book would be useful. Nevertheless, he put Hagrid's card with Ron and Hermione's, ripping open the last envelope from Hogwarts. It was thicker then usual.

_Strange..._

* * *

_Dear Mr. Potter, _

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock. T_

_hird years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign. _

_A list of books for next year is enclosed. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Professor M. McGonagall _

_Deputy Headmistress_

Ulquiorra frowned at the slip of paper; his ticket to Hogsmeade. Ulquiorra had never really set foot into the wizarding village, and he now desired to greatly, realizing that he could. It would be a wonderfully efficient way to study the wizarding world and to see a pure wizard environment. But the Muggles would never sign it. He glanced sideways. Two o' clock. He liked the night, and preferred to stay up late in the dark, true to his previous batlike nature. Unfortunately, Ulquiorra decided it would be best to retire, for the Muggles got irrationality irritable when he slept in. Facing his birthday cards, Ulquiorra felt something in his chest that was warm.

* * *

'Aunt' Marge was coming.

…

_If Kurosaki were to randomly burst in here, I am certain that I would impale myself on his sword._ Ulquiorra thought bitterly.

At least he successfully blackmailed his Muggle Uncle into signing his permission form when Marge was officially gone.

* * *

Marge despised Ulquiorra.

...It was quite mutual. She loved to rant about why Ulquiorra was such a failure and unsatisfactory person.

Ulquiorra loved to mentally picture all the way she could painfully die.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the boy's turned out, Vernon," she said over lunch on the third day. "If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it." Ulquiorra kept his calm facade, though he was twitching with anger from within. Marge reached for her glass of wine."It's one of the basic rules of breeding," she said. "You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup —" Ulquiorra snapped, a scowl marring his features, and the wineglass exploded in a shower of glass, leaving Marge spluttering and blinking stupidly as wine dripped all over her face.

"Marge!" squealed Aunt Petunia. "Marge, are you all right?"

"Not to worry," grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip."

The Dursleys knew better, and Ulquiorra chose this time to honorably retreat.

And thus, he got the hell out of there.

* * *

It was Marge's last day at the Dursley residence and Ulquiorra could've danced with joy.

Well, he wouldn't because he's, you know, Ulquiorra.

And the author is unsure if Ulquiorra even _knows_ how to dance.

Anyway, for her last night Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Vernon opened several wine bottles. They made the whole dinner without mentioning Ulquiorra (nonexistent) faults and during dessert Vernon bored them all with a long talk about his drill company. Ulquiorra itched to leave the table and perhaps continue reading about witch burnings, a topic he found quite interesting, surprisingly enough. Vernon brought out brandy and Petunia made coffee while Dudley worked on his fourth piece of pie. Ulquiorra resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _Glutton._

"Can I tempt your Marge?" Vernon asked merrily and Ulquiorra eyed Marge warily. She already had quite a lot of wine, and her face was red. Ulquiorra had seen alcohol's effects before and they were rather...embarrassing.

_**"Ulquiorra!" The woman exclaimed cheerfully, swaying a little bit. Ulquiorra edged backwards. "What is wrong with you?" He asked, cautious of the weird turn of events. The woman staggered towards him, confusion muddled in her glassy eyes. "I don't know." she mumbled, looking up at him through her eyelashes, looking like a innocent lost doe. Warmth pooled in Ulquiorra's stomach and his legs tensed, though he had absolutely no idea why. He could not desire the woman that way. It was impossible. "I was eating, like you told me too," Ulquiorra's eyes flicked over to her empty plate. "and then I drank some water, but it tasted funny and now I feel really weird." Ulquiorra turned to face her, tilting his head down to meet her fuzzy eyes. "Breathe." He commanded and she complied, her breath ghosting across his face. Ulquiorra could smell it, someone had spiked her drink with sake. Probably Grimmjow or Nnoitora, either for fun or for less...innocent reasons. Removing his hand from his pocket, he guided her over to her couch. "Sleep, woman." he ordered before turning away to leave.**_

**_His body stiffened like a board and he stood rigidly straight as Orihime hugged him from behind. He could feel her deliciously soft breasts press against his back, her painfully delicate arms wrapped around him. He painful__ly aware of the__ hot bubbling desire frothing in his lower stomach and felt himself stiffen in another more ...__sensitive__ place. Orihime sighed giddily. "You know, you're really cute Ulquiorra." Ulquiorra stayed exactly where he was, not trusting himself to move. "You make me feel really odd sometimes," she continued obliviously (and drunkenly) "and I don't get why I feel so hot and tingly around you." She giggled, reaching up and tugging the horn of his mask with a soft pale hand. Ulquiorra bit his lip to stop from moaning, eyes sliding shut._**

_**For a finishing touch, the woman stood on her tiptoes and nuzzled her face into his neck and sloppily kissed his jaw, where his green tear stain ended. Ulquiorra's mask broke and he inhaled sharply, eyes wide. He waited in hot anticipation for the woman's next move, but he felt the woman go limp. She had passed out, still hugging him, though she was rapidly falling to the ground. Catching her, he carried her bridal style to the couch and set her down. Backing away from her sleeping form, he quickly exited, the door slamming behind him. **_

_He quickly made sure afterwards that Grimmjow and Nnoitora were permanently banned from the kitchens._

Ulquiorra knew this would end badly, and Ulquiorra was hardly ever wrong.

"Aah," said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. "Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…" She burped richly and patted her great stomach. "Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she went on, winking at Dudley. "You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…"

"Now this one-" Jerking her head at Ulquiorra and he snapped to attention. _Do not show anything. Emotion is weakness. _Ulquiorra thought to himself.

"This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred."

_Emotion is pointless, emotion is pathetic, emotion is-what the hell do you mean by weak? I was the Cuartro Espada! I **killed** Kurosaki Ichigo. Twice!_

"It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day. Bad blood will out. Now, I'm saying nothing against your family, Petunia" She patted Aunt Petunia's bony hand with her shovel-like one "but your sister was a bad egg. They turn up in the best families. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right in front of us." Ulquiorra fumed then calmed. _Think of the woman. Remember how she used to smile..._

**_For Kurosaki._**A snide little voice spoke up and Ulquiorra's anger spiked.

"This Potter," said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense. Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents.

"He — didn't work," said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Ulquiorra's (seemingly) impassive face. "Unemployed."

"As I expected!" said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —"

"He was not." Ulquiorra coldy interrupted, his anger seeping through. His hands were clenched in fists in his pockets and his was rigid and trembling lightly with fury.

"MORE BRANDY!" yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white. He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass. "You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on —"

"No, Vernon," hiccuped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry's. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash, drunk, I expect-"

"They did not die in a car crash." said Ulquiorra icily, who found himself on his feet. He felt a pressure building...

"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" screamed Aunt Marge. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little —" She stopped suddenly, choking. Pressure rained on the room, paralyzing it's occupants except for Ulquiorra. Eyes shadowed, he snarled and the pressure increased. The table collapsed under it's weight, the glasses shattering. "Marge Dursely." Ulquiorra spoke, voice cold and echoed across the room and when he raised his head, his eyes seemed luminescent with deadly power. "**_Never _**speak of my parents again." Marge choked, foaming at the mouth.

Ulquiorra turned on his heel and walked away, up the stairs, and after kicking the cupboard door down and getting his things, marched straight out the door and into the cold damp streets.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the large triple decker purple bus that had just appeared out of no where. _The Knight Bus_ was spelled out in gold lettering on the windshield. A conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—" He stopped his obviously rehearsed speech and looked down at Ulquiorra, who was sprawled on the ground from when he jumped out of the Knight Bus' way when it nearly ran him over.

"What were you doin' down there?" said Stan, dropping his professional manner.

"I fell over," said Ulquiorra quietly.

"'Choo fall over for?" sniggered Stan.

"I did not do it on purpose," said Ulquiorra, annoyed. One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus's headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty.

"'Choo lookin' at?" said Stan. Ulquiorra frowned, turning away towards Stan slowly. "...Nothing."

_I must have imagined it. I do not think dogs are that large anyway._

_

* * *

_

There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Ulquiorra found himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling himself up, Ulquiorra stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Ulquiorra's stunned face with great enjoyment.

This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

"Ar," said Ernie.

"And Muggles do not hear this." Ulquiorra stated as Stan nodded. "Yup. Don't hear anything, them muggles. Can't see properly, either."

* * *

Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

"That man." Ulquiorra said slowly, forgetting his troubles for a moment. "He was on the Muggle news." Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled. "Sirius Black," he said, nodding. "'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Neville." Ulquiorra twitched at the mention of his classmate, Neville Longbottom (and his alias) "Where you been?" He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Ulquiorra's face, removed the front page, and handed it to him."You oughta read the papers more, Neville."

Ulquiorra held the yellowish paper up in the dim candlelight.

_BLACK STILL AT LARGE _

_Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. _

"_We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm." _

_Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. _

"_Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?" While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse. _

Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow. "Thirteen people with a single curse?" he questioned curiously, handing the paper back to Stan. "Yep," said Stan, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?"

"Ar," said Ern swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Ulquiorra. "Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," he said mysteriously. Ulquiorra blinked. "Ah, Voldemort." As Ulquiorra grabbed on to his bed for the sake of not getting slammed into a window due to Ernie's sudden jerk of the wheel, Ulquiorra reminded himself to remember that wizards were weird and were afraid to say Voldemort's name, which was quite ridiculous if you asked Ulquiorra.

"You outta your tree?" yelped Stan. "'Choo say 'is name for?"

"Sorry. My bad."

* * *

"Right then, Neville," said Stan, clapping his hands, "whereabouts in London?"

"Diagon Alley."

"Righto," said Stan. "'Old tight, then."

BANG. They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Ulquiorra sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter as the dawn approached. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off. Perhaps he would return to the human town of Karakura, or possibly Germany. For some reason, he had always wanted to go there. Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. "Thank you." Ulquiorra said to Ern. He strode down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement. "Well," Ulquiorra murmured. "Goodbye." But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. "There you are, Harry," said a voice.

_Fuck._

_

* * *

_

"I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic."

Yes, Ulquiorra knew that thanks to spying on him in his second year.

Ulquiorra decided it would be wise to not mention that.

The innkeeper (Tom, correct?) reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Ulquiorra and left the parlor, closing the door behind him. "Well, Harry," said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think… but you're safe, and that's what matters." Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra stared at the plate of crumpets and looked back at the minister his eyes dully incredulous.

"Now then… You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate suffocation of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been revived and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done." Fudge smiled at Ulquiorra over his cup and Ulquiorra blinked slowly.

"Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" said Fudge. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays."

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow.

"I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," he said, "and I do not ever want to go back to Privet Drive."

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down," said Fudge in a worried tone. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other — er — very deep down." Ulquiorra (inwardly) rolled his eyes at his naivety. "So all that remains," said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, "is to decide where you're going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and…"

"Excuse me?" Ulquiorra asked. "What will be my punishment?"

Fudge blinked. "Punishment?"

"I broke the law." Ulquiorra reminded him. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry."

"Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a little thing like that!" cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. "It was an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for pushing down their aunts!" That was a severe understatement, and this did not really match up with Ulquiorra's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic. "Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house." he told Fudge, frowning. "The Ministry of Magic said I would be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there."

Fudge looked awkward. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. "Circumstances change, Harry… We have to take into account… in the present climate… Surely you don't want to be expelled?"

"Of course not." Ulquiorra said.

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" laughed Fudge. "Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for you." Fudge strode out of the parlor and Ulquiorra glared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he had done? Surely it wasn't usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic? And what did he mean, 'take the present climate into account'? And he changed the subject so hastily...

_Sirius Black, perhaps?_

_

* * *

_

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeaked a boy much younger than Ulquiorra, who was swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish International Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. "And they're favorites for the World Cup!" A large witch in front of Ulquiorra moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the glorious broom:

** THE FIREBOLT **

THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST.

Ulquiorra's lips tugged down. The broom looked magnificent and wonderfully fast. Despite the nimble speed of Ulquiorra's Nimbus Two Thousand, Ulquiorra always longed to soar higher and faster. Turning away, Ulquiorra walked off disappointed. Never had he wanted a physical item this much.

He blamed it on teenager-hood.

* * *

The days dripped by, and Ulquiorra saw no signs of Ron or Hermione. Though he did come across several of his classmates, such as Dean, Seamus and Neville. Walking down the streets of Diagon Alley, he thought that after he stopped by the Quidditch shop he might stop by the pet store and continue his chat with a charming young fruit bat he had met several days ago. Hands in his pockets casually, his posture perfect (as always) he was passing Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor his head turned at the sound of his 'name'.

"Harry!" There were Ron and Hermione, Ron looking abundant with freckles and Hermione sporting a dark tan. Giving them a brief nod and small smile (he had an image) he walked towards them elegantly. "Finally!" said Ron, grinning at Ulquiorra as he sat down. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and —"

"I purchased all my school materials last week," Ulquiorra explained. "And how come you knew I am staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad," said Ron simply. Ulquiorra nodded. _Ah._ "Did you _really _crush your aunt?" Hermione asked seriously while Ron laughed his head off. Ulquiorra stubbornly looked at his shoes. "She deserved it." He muttered, not really caring how childish he sounded. Ron continued to laugh hysterically.

"It's not funny, Ron," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

Ulquiorra agreed. "I wonder why they were so lenient? It it is not in their nature." Ron snorted. "They can't expel you! Famous Harry Potter! I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!" Hermione nodded, beaming. Ulquiorra nodded approvingly.

"Excellent."

* * *

Ulquiorra stared in horror at the creature that lay smugly in Hermione's arms. Ron was furious as well, though he had a more valid reason, Ulquiorra supposed. The demon (Hermione's new pet) did try to eat Ron's rat. The thing's yellow eyes glared at Ulquiorra and Ulquiorra glared back. It's fur was orange, it's eyes were yellow, and it was a cat.

Kurosaki, Kurosaki's hollow, and Grimmjow.

The three things Ulquiorra hated most combined into a compact lump of fur for Ulquiorra's inconvenient misery.

...Great.

* * *

Ulquiorra sighed and silently backed out of Ron and Percy's room as they began to scream at each other over the subject of Percy's Head Boy badge. Like a phantom, Ulquiorra walked ghost like towards the parlor to retrieve Scabber's tonic. Halfway down the passage to the bar, Ulquiorra heard voices arguing and soon recognized them as the Weasley parents. He decided to not get involved until he heard his 'name' pop up.

"… makes no sense not to tell him," Mr. Weasley was saying heatedly. "Harry's got a right to know. I've tried to tell Fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child. He's thirteen years old and —"

"Arthur, the truth would terrify him!" said Mrs. Weasley shrilly. "Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him? For heaven's sake, he's happy not knowing!" _No he is not._

"I don't want to make him miserable, I want to put him on his guard!" retorted Mr. Weasley. "You know what Harry and Ron are like, wandering off by themselves — they've ended up in the Forbidden Forest twice! But Harry mustn't do that this year! When I think what could have happened to him that night he ran away from home! If the Knight Bus hadn't picked him up, I'm prepared to bet he would have been dead before the Ministry found him." _...That is a tad insulting._

"But he's not dead, he's fine, so what's the point —"

"Molly, they say Sirius Black's mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that's supposed to be impossible. It's been three weeks, and no one's seen hide nor hair of him, and I don't care what Fudge keeps telling the Daily Prophet, we're no nearer catching Black than inventing self-spelling wands. The only thing we know for sure is what Black's after —"

"But Harry will be perfectly safe at Hogwarts."

"We thought Azkaban was perfectly safe. If Black can break out of Azkaban, he can break into Hogwarts." _…_

"But no one's really sure that Black's after Harry —" There was a thud on wood, and Ulquiorra was sure Mr. Weasley had banged his fist on the table. "Molly, how many times do I have to tell you? They didn't report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped. The guards told Fudge that Blacks been talking in his sleep for a while now. Always the same words: 'He's at Hogwarts… he's at Hogwarts.' Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead. If you ask me, he thinks murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power. Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he's had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that…" Ulquiorra leaned against the door, eyes narrowed. So he was correct in thinking something strange was going on with himself and Sirius Black. Edging forward, he strained his (pathetic) human senses to hear more.

"Well, Arthur, you must do what you think is right. But you're forgetting Albus Dumbledore. I don't think anything could hurt Harry at Hogwarts while Dumbledore's Headmaster. I suppose he knows about all this?"

"Of course he knows. We had to ask him if he minds the Azkaban guards stationing themselves around the entrances to the school grounds. He wasn't happy about it, but he agreed."

"Not happy? Why shouldn't he be happy, if they're there to catch Black?"

"Dumbledore isn't fond of the Azkaban guards," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Nor am I, if it comes to that… but when you're dealing with a wizard like Black, you sometimes have to join forces with those you'd rather avoid."

"If they save Harry —"

"– then I will never say another word against them," said Mr. Weasley wearily. "It's late, Molly, we'd better go up…" Ulquiorra heard chairs scraping against the wooden floor and silently retreated back, dismissing Ron's tonic. Hiding in the shadows, he heard the parlor door open and his emerald eyes gleamed at the retreating backs of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Ulquiorra moved upstairs, tactfully dodging Fred and George, who were vandalizing Percy's badge. Ghosting into his room, he lay back on the bed.

So, Sirius Black was after him. It made perfect sense, and everyone's behavior fit with it. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed in irritation. He did not like special treatment; never has, never will. Ulquiorra was not afraid of Sirius Black. Ulquiorra was hardly afraid of anything.

Except the woman when she was upset. That had always made him very uncomfortable for some reason.

Did the no one think he was capable of defending himself? Did they think he could not handle such trivial information? Even though they were ignorant of his previous (and more noteworthy) achievements, he still fought Voldemort on several occasions, despite his pathetically weak body. Which he was training to be a humanly perfect as possible. Ulquiorra scowled.

"I am not going to be murdered by trash."

"That's the spirit dear." His mirror replied sleepily.

* * *

Ulquiorra woke to Tom's toothless grin and a steaming cup of tea (which he politely declined) and got up to get dressed. As he was finishing buttoning his white top Ron barged in looking irritated and pulling on a sweatshirt. "The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy…" Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow in bemusement. "I have something to tell you-" He was cut off by the arrival of Fred and George as they heartily clasped Ron's back roaring with laughter at another unintentional and successful act of annoying Percy. They headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasely was reading the Daily Prophet and Mrs. Weasely was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a girl and Ulquiorra shudder went unnoticed. _Like she needs any ideas._ Ulquiorra thought with some degree of horror, eying the youngest Weasely. She was very immature, and completely lovesick to the point of possible worship. It was annoying, but he couldn't help but notice her anyway. She was like a ridiculously bright light that screamed, _Hey Ulquiorra! Look at me! I'm a pale and obnoxious reminder of your woman and that you'll never see her again or be with her! How's it going?_

…

Deliberately avoiding looking at Ginny, Ulquiorra walked passed and sat down to start his breakfast. Once again, he avoided tea.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the obviously enchanted cars that they were forced into quite hurriedly. Ulquiorra sighed and shook his head. _Could they be any more obvious?_

_

* * *

_

"Harry," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "come over here for a moment." He jerked his head towards a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasely. "There's something I've got to tell you before you leave —" said Mr. Weasley tensely. Taking pity on the awkward man, Ulquiorra interupted. "It is fine, Mr. Weasley, I already know."

"You know? How could you know?"

"I overheard you and Mrs. Wesley talking last night." Ulquiorra informed. "I apologize for eavesdropping."

"That's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out," said Mr. Weasley looking anxious. "No. It is absolutely fine. This way, you have not broken your word to Fudge and I know what is going on."

"Harry, you must be scared — "

"I am not," said Ulquiorra sincerely. "Really," he added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. "I have desire in trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black cannot be worse than Lord Voldemort." Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name, but overlooked it. "Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but —"

"Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"

"He's coming Molly!" said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice, "Listen, I want you to give me your word —"

" That I will be a good boy and stay in the castle?" Ulquiorra sighed.

"Not entirely," said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious than Ulquiorra had ever seen him. "Harry, swear to me you won't go looking for Black." Ulquiorra stared.

"...What?"

* * *

The Trio finally found a mostly empty compartment on the train. The only one inside was a scruffy man sleeping in the corner. He looked tired and worn, his robes patchy and unkept. Ulquiorra cocked an eyebrow. "Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.

"Professor R. J. Lupin." whispered Hermione and Ulquiorra at once.

"How'd you know that?"

"It's on his case," she answered, pointing at the luggage rack over the man's head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name _Professor R. J. Lupin_ was stamped across one corner in peeling letters. "Wonder what he teaches?" said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin's pallid profile. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"That's obvious," whispered Hermione. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Well, I hope he's up to it," said Ron doubtfully. "He looks like one good hex would finish him off, doesn't he? Anyway…" he turned to Ulquiorra expectantly, "what were you going to tell us?"

* * *

Hermione gasped "Sirius Black escaped to come after you? Oh, Harry… you'll have to be really, really careful. don't go looking for trouble, Harry!"

"I do not go looking for trouble," said Ulquiorra, quite nettled. "Trouble just has a knack for finding me."

"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Ron shakily. They were taking the news worse than Ulquiorra had expected. Both Ron and Hermione seemed to be much more frightened of Black than he was. Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow. _They fear him more, yet he is trying to kill __**me.**_

* * *

Ulquiorra frowned at the flashing whirling Sneakoscope. He doubted it was broken.

Who here could he not trust?

* * *

Ulquiorra peeked out the door as the train jerked to a sudden halt. He noticed many other student heads poking out their own compartments, the hall full of mumbling confusion. Ulquiorra blinked as the lamps suddenly blew out, draping them in complete darkness. For some odd reason, Ulquiorra could see perfectly, despite his human body. Like he had night vision again...

"What's going on?" Ron asked as he stood up and walked up behind Ulquiorra, stepping on Hermione's foot in the process. "Ouch! Ron that was my foot!" Ulquiorra strode back to his seat and slowly lowered himself down.

"D'you think we've broken down?" Ron asked curiously.

"I am unsure of the situation…" There was a squeaking sound, and Ulquiorra saw the shadowed form of Ron, wiping a patch clean on the condensated window and peering out. "There's something moving out there," Ron said. "I think people are coming aboard…" The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell painfully over Ulquiorra's legs.

"Hello, Neville."

"Sorry! D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry —" Ulquiorra pulled Neville up by his cloak to his feet. "Harry? Is that you? What's happening?"

"No idea. Sit down —" There was a loud hissing and a yelp of pain as Neville had tried to sit on Crookshanks. Ulquiorra smirked, though it was unseen. "I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," came Hermione's voice from her seat across from Ulquiorra's. Ulquiorra watched her pass him, heard the door slide open again, and then there was a thud and two loud squeals of pain as she crashed into Ginny.

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?" _Probably looking for me to save her. _Ulquiorra thought irritably, rolling his eyes.

"I was looking for Ron —"

"Come in and sit down —"

"Not here!" Ulquiorra snapped hurriedly. "I am here!"

"Ouch!" exclaimed Neville.

"Quiet!" said a hoarse voice suddenly. Professor Lupin appeared to have woken up at last. _Finally. Took him long enough._

* * *

"Stay where you are." he commanded in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with a handful of fire held out in front of him. But the door slid slowly open before Lupin could reach it. A cloaked figure that towered over them all to the ceiling hovered inches above the ground, it's tattered black cloak ghosting the floor. It's hood was pulled up, it's face thankfully covered in pitch black shadow. Ulquiorra's eyes darted to it's hands and felt repulsed. It's hands were grayish green and scabbed, like a corpses' that had decayed in water for several years. It drew a cold rattling breath and Ulquiorra felt something that he had not felt in a very long time.

Despair.

It filled him like a poison, and his limbs felt numb. He couldn't think, couldn't smell, see, feel, or hear. All he could do was remember and drown in the agony and misery that seeped into his heart.

He didn't feel himself slide off his seat and crash to the floor in a crumpled heap. All he could do now was hear the screams.

_Kurosaki-Kun!_ _Kurosaki-Kun!_

_**Ulquiorra...**_

_Help me! Kurosaki-Kun!_

_**Ulquiorra, can ya hear me?**_

_What is the heart?_

_**It's me. You remember my name, don't cha?**_

_Ohhhh, I wish I could live life five times over. Then I'd be born in five different places, and I'd stuff myself with different food from around the world... I'd live five different lives with five different occupations... and then, for those five times... I'd fall in love with the same person..._

_**C'mon, focus Batboy. It's me. -**_

_KUROSAKI-KUN!_

* * *

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?" Someone was bitch slapping his face desperately. Ulquiorra's face twitched and his eye shot open furiously. "Why," he growled. "are you slapping me?" Ron drew back sheepishly. "Sorry, mate. Didn't know how else to get you up." Ulquiorra blinked and noticed that he was on the floor. Ron and Hermione were kneeling next to him concerned, while Neville and Lupin were standing behind them with worried faces. Ulquiorra sat up and placed a hand to his forehead. Cold and clammy. He fumbled for his glasses and slid them on and everything blurred back into focus. He tried to sit up but his body was still numb from the attack so Ron and Hermione dragged him up and sat him down. "Are you okay?" Ron asked and Ulquiorra nodded slowly. "I suppose. What was that? Where's the woman?" They all blinked. "What woman?" Ron asked nervously.

"I heard a woman calling me-"

"There was no woman." Ron said and Ulquiorra frowned. He turned to Lupin, hearing a loud snapping noise coming from his direction. He was breaking up a large bar of chocolate. Ulquiorra blinked, was now really the time for sweets? Ulquiorra didn't really indulge in sweets, and now did not seem like a good time to start. Lupin handed Ulquiorra the largest piece. "Here. It will help." He smiled kindly at Ulquiorra, who accepted (but didn't eat) the chocolate. "What was that thing?" he asked Lupin.

"A Dementor," said Lupin, who was now giving chocolate to everyone else. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban." Everyone stared at him. _So those are the guards of Azkaban..._ Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. "Eat," he repeated. "It'll help. I need to speak to the driver, excuse me…" He slid past Ulquiorra and strode down the corridor. Ulquiorra blinked down at his chocolate. "What happened, exactly?"

"Well — that thing — the Dementor — stood there and looked around...I mean, I think it did, I couldn't see its face. And you...you...I-I thought you were having a fit or something," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching —"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away…"

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it got when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again…" Ginny, who was huddled in her corner looking nearly as bad as Ulquiorra felt, gave a small sob; Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.

"But no one else collasped?" asked Ulquiorra softly. "No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again. "Ginny was shaking like mad, though…"

Ulquiorra frowned unperceptively. Everyone seemed fine, more or less. Why did he fall so easily? Defeat was something that Ulquiorra did not like to associate with and the fact that was broke down form that Dementor's attack made him feel weak. He hated feeling weak, he especially hated being defeated without a fight. It was shameful. Ron suddenly perked up. "Oh yeah! During your...you know," Ron said awkwardly, "you kept muttering 'onna' over and over." Ulquiorra's cheeks tinted pink.

Thankfully, at that moment Lupin rejoined the group and smiled tiredly at the teens. "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know…" Ulquiorra took a small bite of the chocolate to please the man that had obviously saved his life and was surprised to feel warmth spread to the very tips of his body. "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes," Lupin continued, looking at Ulquiorra searchingly. "Are you alright Harry?" Ulquiorra nodded stiffly.

"Perfectly fine, sir."

* * *

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…" Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business." He paused, and Ulquiorra recalledd what Mr. Weasley had said about Dumbledore being unhappy with the Dementors guarding the school. "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises — or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added mildly and pointedly, and Ulquiorra and Ron glanced at each other. _Damn._ "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors," he said. Out his peripheral vision Ulquiorra noticed Percy's chest puff out superiorly and scoffed. "On a happier note," The old Headmaster continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was some scattered, and rather unenthusiastic, applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped with any effort. Ulquiorra among them clapped respectfully. Professor Lupin looked especially shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes. "Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Ulquiorra's ear. Ulquiorra turned his attention to the sallow skined and oily Potions Master. His mouth was pressed in a thin line and his black eyes were glaring at Lupin with a look of hatred usually reserved only for Ulquiorra.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the halfhearted applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."Ulquiorra's eyes widened before he brought his hands together in loud steady applause, along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Hermione was cheering and Ron whooped. "We should've known!" he roared, grinning madly. "Who else would assign us a biting book?" Ulquiorra might have smiled.

"Who indeed."

* * *

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your timetable. Look — they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough  
time."

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And —" Ron leaned closer to the timetable, disbelieving, "look, underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?" Ulquiorra's ears perked up curiously.

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well then —"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But —"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

While they bickered, as usual, Ulquiorra silently reached over and examined Hermione's schedule. His eyes narrowed. _This is utterly impossible. She would have to be able to go back in time..._

Ulquiorra resolved to learn if time travel was possible.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the oddity of their Divination classroom. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

It was like a warm and cozy tea shop run by someone's elderly grandmother.

In other words, Ulquiorra hated it.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the insect like woman that was his Professor. She was thin and gangly, and wore glasses that made her eyes appear abnormally large. Glittering dangling bracelets and chains hung from her wrists and neck and she wore a gaudy shawl. After they all sat down on the armchairs of poufy pillows meant to act as seats, she herself sat down upon a winged armchair upfront.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye." Ulquiorra blanched. He could see now that he would hate this class. Why had he chosen it again?

_**"What're you taking next year mate?" Ron asked as he stared at their class list for next year. Ulquiorra sighed. "I do not know. I do not know enough about the magical world to make an informed decision."**_

_**"Yeah...Hey, how 'bout Divination? Sounds easy enough, and might come in handy."**_

_**"I suppose..."**_

_Damn you Weasely..._

_

* * *

_

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave Ulquiorra's cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed. There was another tinkle of breaking china, as Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed in pain.

...It was a bit obnoxious.

"My dear boy — my poor dear boy — no — it is kinder not to say — no — don't ask me…" Ulquiorra stared at her exasperated. She obviously wanted them to ask her.

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Ulquiorra and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Ulquiorra tea cup. "My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim." Ulquiorra cocked an eyebrow. _In order to perpetrate drama, it is probably some type of death omen._

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Ulquiorra hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!" Ulquiorra sighed.

_Of course. I saw a large black dog earlier this year...I suppose that means I will die soon._

_Ah, well. Cannot say I care that much really._

_

* * *

_

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron as the group started to eat lunch. He and Hermione were arguing about Divination class and Ulquiorra's reading, and Ron was starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!" Ulquiorra choked as he accidentally inhaled some pumpkin juice whilst chuckling.

_I knew I decided to keep her around as a companion for a reason._

_

* * *

_

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, just loud enough for Ulquiorra to hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff Buckbeak. "Are you, you great ugly brute?" There was a flash of sharp talons and the next instant Hagrid was wrestling with Buckbeak as the enraged creatrue fought to attack the arrogant Slytherin. Malfoy clutched his arm, withering and screaming as blood bloomed over his robes. "I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me — gotta get him outta here —" Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Ulquiorra saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle. Ulquiorra stared at the infuriated and restrained hippogriff as he collected his books. _This is not over._

_

* * *

_

Professor Lupin, beckoned the class toward the end of the staff room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. "Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there." Most people thought this was something to worry about, as they stared, antsy as the wardrobe shook.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?"

Hermione, of course, put up her hand. "It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, as he was going to be the example, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?" Ulquiorra blinked, ignoring Hermione's frantic waving hand. "Since we are assembled in a large group," Ulquiorra answered easily, "it will be unsure of which fear to turn into."

"Correct!" Professor Lupin beamed as Hermione lowered her hand sadly. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake — tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter." _Crap._ "What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please…riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" The class chorused.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville." The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows. "Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" Neville's lips moved wordlessly. "I didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully. Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape." Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful. "Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

Ulquiorra smirked. _...Intriguing. _

_

* * *

_

"If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…" The room went quiet. Ulquiorra thought… What scared him most in the world? The first thing that came to mind was Aizen. Despite popular belief, Ulquiorra detested serving that man and the man himself. He was very offputting, and his strength unsettled him. _Perhaps I could dress him in hot pink...or rainbows._ Ulquiorra mused before something else came to mind. A rotting corpse hand, rattling breath and undying cold with screams of a cherished woman. Ulquiorra's blood grew cold at just the thought.

_Ironic...the thing I fear most..._

_...is True Despair._

* * *

"R — r — riddikulus! " squeaked Neville. There was a noise like a cracking whip. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!" Parvati walked forward, her face set with determination. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising to reach for her... "Riddikulus!" cried Parvati. A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet; it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off. "Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin. Seamus darted past Parvati.

Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floorlength black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face. A banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek that made the hair on Ulquiorra's head stand on end. _What a loathsome sound. _

"Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus. The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone. Crack! The boggart turned into a scampering rat. Another crack, and it became a hissing rattlesnake. Crack! A single bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!" Dean hurried forward.  
Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab. "Riddikulus!" yelled Dean. There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap. **"Marvelous! Enelvon, next!" A girl that Ulquiorra had never noticed before strode towards the boggart, looking bored, wand at the ready. Crack! The boggart transformed and the girl twitched with horror. Ulquiorra could understand, the sight was truly repulsive. The girl could only stare as the life sized animated Ken doll, dressed in a hot pink suit, knelt down before her and said in a sickeningly perky voice, "My greatest love! Will you do me the honor and come away with me to my Dream House?" For a moment she stared blankly. Then she let out a high pitched scream of sheer terror as his proposal sank in and she bolted out the staff room door. They all stared (including the boggart) at the empty door, hearing her frantic feet take down the hall and FAR away. Lupin coughed. "Well, can't say I blame her. **Ron, next!"

* * *

"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the giant spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Ulquiorra's feet. He raised his wand, ready. "Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack! The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "Riddikulus!" almost lazily. Crack! "Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach.

Crack! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined. "Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone. "Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone… Let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice… and five each to Hermione and Harry."

"But I did not particpate in the exercise," Ulquiorra said blankly. "You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me… o be handed in on Monday. That will be all." Ulquiorra left the room with the others feeling disheartend. _Why did he not let me face the boggart. Does he think I will faint once more? Does he think I am that **...weak?**_

_

* * *

_

"You recall that day we fought the Boggart?" Ulquiorra asked suddenly to Professor Lupin on Halloween as they drank tea in his office. Everyone was enjoying the day at Hogsmeade.

"Yes," said Lupin slowly.

"Why did you not let me fight it?" Ulquiorra asked. Lupin raised his eyebrows. "I would have thought that was obvious, Harry," he said, sounding surprised. Ulquiorra had expected Lupin to deny that he had done such a thing and grew curious. "Why?" he said again.

"Well," said Lupin, frowning slightly, "I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort." Ulquiorra blinked. "Voldemort does not frighten me." Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Fearing Voldemort is like fearing death. It is pointless." Ulquiorra said monotonously, sipping his tea before making a face. "Forgive me, but I have...unpleasant memories of tea and am not very fond of it." Lupin chuckled. "You are something, Harry. To speak of death without fear. It's instinctual to fear death."

_Not when you know what's on the other side._ "I fear only True Despair." Ulquiorra confessed and seeing Lupin's blank look he clarified, "Dementors."

"I see," said Lupin thoughtfully. "Well, well… I'm impressed." He smiled slightly at the look on Ulquiorra's face. "That suggests that what you fear most of all is — fear. Very wise Harry."

"Thank you, Professor."

* * *

The Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely. Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him. "We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice. It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry. Ulquiorra glanced up to the annoying pest. "What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little. He adopted an oily voice that was no better than his normal one. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing." he added quite unconvincingly. "Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly. "Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Ulquiorra's eyes widened. _He could not mean..._Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

* * *

Ulquiorra stared from the doorway. It was not Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's desk. It was Snape instead. "This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

But Ulquiorra didn't move. "Where is Professor Lupin?" he asked nonchalantly.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

Ulquiorra leaned against the doorway. "What is his ailment?"Snape's black eyes glittered. "Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty." Ulquiorra walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class. "As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —"

"Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start -"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked murderous "You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you. I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss —" Ulquiorra watched keenly as he flicked through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered. "— werewolves," said Snape. Ulquiorra, against his will, straightened with interest. "But, sir," said Hermione, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks —"

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394."

* * *

Ulquiorra took notes with interest on the subject of werewolves. He began to notice something...

_...The full moon is tonight. _Ulquiorra remembered._ And Professor Lupin is absent...his boggart was also an orb that resembled the moon..._Ulquiorra's eyes cleared as he realized Lupin's 'illness'.

_Ah. So Professor Lupin is a werewolf. _

_...Huh._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra zoomed after the Snitch, and reached out, the quick golden ball at his fingertips. Suddenly, it was silent. The wind blew as strongly as ever, but it did not howl. No more cheering came from the stands, and Ulquiorra noticed something on the field as numbing cold entered his body. He looked down. At least a hundred Dementors, hoods pointing up at him. He swayed on his broom, the Snitch leaving his sight and mind. Screaming, explosions, the stench of blood...

_"STOP!"_

_**Hey.**_

_"NOOOOOOOOOO!"_

_**It's me again.**_

_"Kurosaki-kun!"_

_**Dude, you're so depressed all the time. Lighten up a bit, ne?**_

_"Ishdia-kun!"_

_**Ulquiorra, my name is...**_

_The woman's room is filled with rubble and destruction. Two Arrancar women stand in her place. "Who did this?"_

_"...Grimmjow."_

_**My name is...**_

_"Kill me."_

The world went black as he tumbled down, down, down into the Dementors waiting hands. He sighed softly.

_**Ulquiorra! Foucs on my voice, ya Emospda!**_

_"Please...not Harry!"_

_...Mother?_

_

* * *

_

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away… He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him —"

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," said Ron. "And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…" His voice faded away as he thought of what could have been, but Ulquiorra hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the Dementors had done to him… about the whispering voice that kept calling out to him. He looked up and saw Ron and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he felt the need to say _something_. "Did someone get my Nimbus?" Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other. "Er —"

"What?" said Ulquiorra, looking from one to the other."Well… when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly. Ulquiorra cocked his head.

"And?"

"And it hit — it hit — oh, Harry — it hit the Whomping Willow."

Ulquiorra could only stare as his faithful beaten broomstick fell out of a bag onto his bed in only a few twigs and fragments.

* * *

Ulquiorra did not let Madame Pomfrey throw his broomstick away. It appeared that he had gotton attached to the piece of wood and throwing it out did not seem an option for him anymore. He inwardly snorted. When did he become so weak?

...Oh right, when the woman gave him a heart and he discovered humanity.

* * *

The Trio made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ron with trepidation. "If Snape's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I'm skiving off," said Ron as they headed toward Lupin's classroom after lunch. "Check who's in there, Hermione." Ulquiorra strode into the classroom, knowing it would Lupin, as Hermione whispered to Ron, "It's okay!"

Lupin, naturally, looked even more worn then usual but smiled at the class. Immediately, the class broke out into complaints about Snape's lesson while Lupin had been dealing with his condition. "It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves —"

"— two rolls of parchment!"

"Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" Lupin asked, frowning slightly. The babble broke out again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind —"

"— he wouldn't listen —"

"— _two rolls of parchment!" _Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. Knowing that Lupin would return the following class, he spared himself the agony of actually doing the essay when he completed the task that Snape had silently sent out to the third years.

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay." _Obviously._

"Oh no," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "I've already finished it!" Ulquiorra gave her a look of amused exasperation. _She actually **did** the essay? Surly she figured Lupin's condition through it..._

_

* * *

_

"Did you hear of the Dementors?" Ulquiorra asked quietly as he hung back after DADA had finished. Professor Lupin had asked for a word about the Quidditch fiasco. "Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra admitted. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from him before he could stop himself. "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just —?"

"It has nothing to do with weakness," said Professor Lupin sharply, as though he had read Ulquiorra's mind. "The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the others don't have." Ulquiorra's lips pressed together as memories flashed. A sickeningly kind smile, cold eyes, blood, pain and the screams of his woman calling in desperation to a man that was not himself.

"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself — soul-less and evil." Ulquiorra chilled at the word 'soul-less'. "You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of." Ulquiorra stared out the window then back to Lupin as the watery sunlight illuminated every tired line and shadow on his face. Ulquiorra sighed. "Why did they have to come to the match?" He asked bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," said Lupin coolly, shutting his briefcase with a snap. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up… I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high… it was their idea of a feast."

"Azkaban must be terrible," Ulquiorra muttered. Lupin nodded grimly.

"The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheery thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

"But Sirius Black escaped from them," Ulquiorra said slowly. "He got away…" Lupin's briefcase slipped from the desk; he had to stoop quickly to catch it.

"Yes," he said, straightening up, "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible… Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…"

"You made that Dementor on the train retreat," said Ulquiorra suddenly, remembering his arrival at Hogwarts. Lupin looked uncomfortable.

"There are — certain defenses one can use," said Lupin. "But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist."

"What defenses?" demanded Ulquiorra at once. "Can you teach me?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry — quite the contrary…" Ulquiorra was persistent. "The Dementors affect me much worse then everyone else." He pointed out. "It would be wise if I had some sort of protection against them."

Lupin looked into Ulquiorra impassive face, hesitated, then seeing the determined glint in his eyes said, "Well… all right. I'll try and help. But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

* * *

December slipped in and the castle spirits were high. Christmas was upon them, and teachers had begun to decorate the castle. Students began to discuss their holiday plans, and Ulquiorra was surprised that both Ron and Hermione were staying at Hogwarts but knew it was to keep him company. A thoughtful sentiment. There was another Hogsmeade trip planned, to everyone's joy.

Well, everyone except Ulquiorra.

He just felt kinda pissed about it.

Instead of going to Hogsmeade with everyone else, Ulquiorra decided he would borrow a copy of _Which Broomstick_ from Wood, since he was in desperate need of a decent broom. He had been practicing on a Shooting Star that he was pretty sure was older then he was (counting both lives). It was ridiculous. The snowy Saturday came, and Ulquiorra watched forlornly as Ron and Hermione exited the castle with all the other third years. Turning back, he decided to head up to the common room and start his homework. It was times like this where he missed being part of Aizen's army.

They didn't have paperwork.

Ah, good times.

"Psst — Harry!" Ulquiorra turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch. "What are you doing?" Ulquiorra asked monotonously. "Why is it that you are not going to Hogsmeade?"

"We've come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go," said Fred, with a mysterious wink. "Come in here…" He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Curiosity peaked, he followed Fred and George inside. George closed the door quietly and then turned, beaming, to look at the (seemingly) uninterested Ulquiorra. "Early Christmas present for you, Harry," he said and Fred pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. Ulquiorra, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it. Looked back up at the troublesome twins beaming faces. Looked back at the parchment. "What is that supposed to be?"

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," said George, patting the parchment fondly. Ulquiorra's brows furrowed. "It's a wrench, giving it to you," said Fred, "but we decided last night, your need's greater than ours."

"Anyway, we know it by heart," said George. "We bequeath it to you. We don't really need it anymore."

"And what, exactly, do I need with a bit of old parchment?" said Ulquiorra, becoming a tad bored with this seemingly pointless chat. "A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Ulquiorra had mortally offended him. "Explain, George."

"Well… when we were in our first year, Harry — young, carefree, and innocent —"

Ulquiorra snorted. Fred and George, innocent? Yeah, so was Ichimaru. Ulquiorra blinked.

Pictured Ichimaru, Fred, and George in the same room.

Shuddered.

" — well, more innocent than we are now — we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason —"

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual —"

"— detention —"

"— disembowelment —"

"— and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked_ Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_." Finished Geroge gleefully. Ulquiorra felt a smirk pulling at his lips. "You..." said Ulquiorra, smirk growing and eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, what would you've done?" said Fred. "George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed this."

"It's not as bad as it sounds, you know," said George. "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"And you know how to work it?" Ulquiorra asked, hands resting casually in his pockets.

"Oh yes," said Fred, smirking. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school." Ulquiorra snorted. "You are not serious."

"Oh, are we?" said George, smirking mischievously. He took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Ulquiorra watched in utter fascination as dark ink spread over the parchment like a rapidly growing spider web coming from George's wand. The smooth lines joined together, crisscrossed and Ulquiorra notcied that they formed some type of map. Curly green script bloomed at the top of the page cheerfully.

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs _

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present _

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

Ulquiorra stared at the wonderfully intricate and accurate map of Hogwarts castle. It was a little inspiring. "Genius." Ulquiorra breathed as his fingertips ghosted over the map, brushing the worn map, and coming to rest on the little ink dot that read _Harry Potter _located on the map. As well as showing everyone's location, it also showed passages that Ulquiorra had never known about. And a good deal of them led-

"Right into Hogsmeade," said Fred, tracing one of them with his finger. "There are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four" — he pointed them out — "but we're sure we're the only ones who know about these. Don't bother with the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it's caved in — completely blocked. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We've used it loads of times. And as you might've noticed, the entrance is right outside this room, through that one-eyed old crone's hump."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," sighed George, patting the heading of the map. "We owe them so much."

"Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of lawbreakers," said Fred solemnly. "Right," said George briskly. "Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it —"

"— or anyone can read it," Fred said warningly, wagging a finger in Ulquiorra's direction.

"Just tap it again and say, 'Mischief managed!' And it'll go blank."

"So, young Harry," said Fred, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy, "mind you behave yourself."

"See you in Honeydukes," said George, winking. They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way. Looking after them, Ulquiorra then turned his attention on the small wonderful map. His lips twitched, before blowing out into a somewhat demonic smirk.

_Heh._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra wandered around the sweet shop curiously. It was alive with laughter, bright colors adorning the walls, and candies, sherberts, lollipops and any other sweet imaginable on display. He could practically see the woman running around energetically, a wide and gleeful grin on her face as she zoomed around the shop, making sure she investigated each item possible. It was jam packed with Hogwarts students, so Ulquiorra did not need to worry about being discovered. It did not take him long to locate Ron and Hermione, who were standing underneath a sign that read "Unusual Tastes" and examining a tray of blood flavored lollipops.

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione was saying, nose wrinkled at the thought of blood flavored candy. "How about these?" said Ron, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose. Ulquiorra stared at them in disgust.

"Absolutely not." He deadpanned. He watched with mild glee as Ron nearly dropped the jar and Hermione spun around, gaping like a fish.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione. "What are you doing here? How — how did you —?"

"Wow!" said Ron, looking very impressed, "you've learned to Apparate!" Ulquiorra stared at him with a blank look on his face. Hermione turned to Ron, disbelieving that he would say something that ridiculous. Ron looked back and forth at the two. "What?" Ulquiorra turned to Hermione. "Shall you? Or I?" Hermione shrugged. "I prefer to settle things with words." she admitted. "It seems like you want to more anyway." Ulquiorra nodded in agreement. Ron was confused. "Huh? What're you talking- OW!" Ulquiorra slid his hand back into his pocket as Ron rubbed his head ruefully. "Fine, you didn't learn how to Apparate, but did you have to hit me?"

Ulquiorra and Hermione exchanged glances. Turned back to Ron.

"Yes."

* * *

Ulquiorra crouched under the table uncomfortably. Sensing the teacher and Minister's reiastu approaching the Three Broomsticks, Ulquiorra had calmly slid under the table with his drink, to his two friends bewilderment. Now, he crouched on the floor, listening to their conversation of Sirius Black. To be honest, he wasn't very interested in their talk, and hoped they would be done soon.

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!" Ulquiorra's eyes widened and his jaw, in a bout of uncharacteristic shock, dropped open.

_...Sirius Black...and __**Father**__?_

* * *

"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" chimed in Professor Flitwick. "Inseparable!"

"Of course they were," said Fudge. "Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Worse even than that, m'dear…" Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding." Ulquiorra remained low to the ground, eyes wide and listening keenly. "Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does that work?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest. Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall.

"And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed —"

"Black betrayed them?" breathed Madam Rosmerta.

"He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters' death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colors as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it..."

Madam Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, "But he didn't manage to disappear, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him next day!"

"Alas, if only we had," said Fudge bitterly. "It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew — another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters' Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself."

"Pettigrew… that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" said Madam Rosmerta.

"Hero worshiped Black and Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I — how I regret that now…"

"There, now, Minerva," said Fudge kindly, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…" Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, "Stupid boy… foolish boy… he was always hopeless at dueling… should have left it to the Ministry…" Ulquiorra's ears deafened to the rest of the conversation and soon enough the teachers and Minister's chairs were scraping against the floor and their feet marched them out the door, cloaks billowing behind them.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the photo of the laughing man next to his smiling parents on their wedding day. Something cool and icy roamed his body and through his blood. It wasn't the firey and passionate wrath he was accustomed to.

It was hatred.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the Ministry notice on Hagrid's table as the man sobbed. Picking up the notice, he read it aloud curiously. Buckbeak was to be put on trial, and most likely to be executed.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned, and Ulquiorra was awakend by Ron, who as usual, woke him up by throwing something at his face. This year it was a pillow. "Oy! Presents!" Ulquiorra sat up, and put on his glasses (he really needed more fashionable ones) and looked around.

"Another sweater from Mum… maroon again… see if you've got one." Ulquiorra had indeed received the annual Weasely/Ulquiorra sweater. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front (shame, he preferred green), also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and a box of nut brittle. As he moved all these things aside, he saw a long, thin package lying underneath. "What's that?" said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in his hands. Ulquiorra circled the mysterious gift, frowning. "I do not know."

Ulquiorra neatly opened the package and stared as the magnificent shining bromstick rolled onto his bed. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look. "I don't believe it," he said hoarsely. It was the Firebolt, and Ulquiorra eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"Who sent it to you?" said Ron in a hushed voice. Ulquiorra searched the package thoroughly and found nothing. No note, no card. Ulquiorra frowned. "Nothing."

"Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?

"Who knows..."

* * *

It was one of the most challenging things he had ever done, really. Taking the prized broom in hand and reporting it to McGonagall. Handing it over was even more difficult, and it must have shown (for once) since McGonagall gave him a sympathetic and reassuring stare. "Don't worry, Potter. You will have it back once we are sure it is jinx-free." Ulquiorra nodded dumbly and left the office, feeling like he had done something very, very stupid.

* * *

Ron thought he was absolutely insane. Ulquiorra did not disagree.

* * *

"Another Boggart," said Lupin, stripping off his cloak. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real Dementor. The Boggart will turn into a Dementor when he sees you, so we'll be able to practice on him. I can store him in my office when we're not using him; there's a cupboard under my desk he'll like." Ulquiorra nodded curtly. Lupin took out his wand and Ulquiorra followed his example eagerly. "The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry — well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm."

"How does it work?"

"Well, when it works correctly, It conjures up a Patronus," said Lupin, "which is a kind of anti-Dementor — a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the Dementor." Ulquiorra pictured the woman with her brittle shields and six flower fairies. "The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon — hope, happiness, the desire to survive — but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can't hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it."

"What does the Patronus look like?"

"It's form is unique to every wizard who conjures it."

"An how does one conjure it?" Ulquiorra asked, his interest peaking. Lupin smiled wanly. "An incantation. It will only work if you are concentrating with everything you have on a single, happy memory." Ulquiorra blanched. _...Crap._

* * *

Lupin grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled. A Dementor rose slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Ulquiorra, one glistening, scabbed hand gripping its cloak. The lamps around the classroom flickered and went out as the Dementor rose from the box and started to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of piercing cold broke over him —

"Expecto patronum!" Ulquiorra recited loudly, trying to drown out the roaring in his ears. "Expecto patronum! Expecto —" The classroom and Dementor were fading as thick dark fog clouded his vision and he staggered.

_**We've gotta stop meeting like this.**_

_A warm hand on his head. Cold brown eyes smirk down. Helpless, trapped. "Welcome. Ulquiorra."_

_**Can't believe we're doing this. Like Shinigami, ne? My name-**_

"_Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything —" _

_**My name is- you know, how come all important women in your lives are red heads? I've been wondering that for awhile...**_

"Harry!" Ulquiorra's eyes snapped open to see the ceiling. He was lying spread eagled on the floor. He had collapsed. Again. "I apologize." He murmured, feeling cold perspiration on his forehead and his pushed himself up. "Are you alright?" Lupin asked worriedly.

"Been better."

"Here," Lupin handed him a Chocolate Frog. "Eat this before we try again. I didn't expect you to do it your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had." Ulquiorra accepted the frog warily. He did not really like Chocolate Frogs, to be honest. They tasted alright, but he found it distasteful that it was shaped like a frog. Sighing, Ulquiorra bit it's head off. "You might want to select another memory, a happy memory, I mean, to concentrate on," Lupin suggested, "that one doesn't seem to have been strong enough…" Ulquiorra nodded. He closed his eyes and tried to find a memory that he could consider happy.

Becoming a wizard. Leaving the hellhole that was his offical 'home'. That was happy.

...Right?

* * *

The room went icily cold and dark once more. The Dementor glided forward, drawing its breath; one rotting hand was extending toward Ulquiorra, feasting on his despair. "Expecto patronum!" Ulquiorra exclaimed desperately. "Expecto patronum! Expecto Pat —" Familiar white fog obscured his senses… big, blurred shapes were moving around him…

"_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off —" The sounds of someone stumbling from a room — a door bursting open — a cackle of high- pitched laughter — _

_**Yellow eyes, glowing with power, stares at him within emerald. Black lips whisper to him, "Ulquiorra." Marble white skin, marked by bold black tears. "Ulquiorra..."**_

"Harry! Harry… wake up…" Ulquiorra blearily opened his eyes. "Father..." He whispered and Lupin's eyes widened. "Foolish man...taking on Voldemort single-handedly..." Tears mingled with his sweat and he made no move to wipe them away. He wore his despair proudly, a long time ago. He felt no need to hide it now, and he supposed it was as they said. Old habit died hard.

"You...heard James?" Lupin asked in a odd voice. Ulquiorra turned to him. "Yes. Did you know my father?"

"I — I did, as a matter of fact," said Lupin. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry — perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced… I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this…" Ulquiorra's eyes flashed. "No." He shot Lupin's idea of stopping down immediately. "Once more. I must not be thinking of something happy enough..."

_Something happy...something happy..._

_I'm not afraid._

_

* * *

_

Lupin pulled off the lid of the case for the third time, and the Dementor rose out of it; the room fell cold and dark. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Ulquiorra panted. "EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!" The screams and voices inside Ulquiorra head had started again — except this time, it sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio. It was softer then louder then softer again… and he could still see the Dementor. It had halted, hovering several feet from Ulquiorra. A huge, silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry's wand, to hover between him and the Dementor, and though Ulquiorra's legs felt like water, he was still on his feet . He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand, but as he continued he confidence grew and his protronus grew more defined though barely. It morphed into a long vertical shape that could have been a person's silhouette.

"Riddikulus!" roared Lupin, springing forward. There was a loud crack, and Harry's cloudy Patronus vanished along with the Dementor and Ulquiorra sank into a chair, completely exhausted. He watched tiredly as Lupin fought the moon shaped boggart and forced in back into the packing case.

"Excellent!" Lupin said, striding over to where he sat. "Excellent, Harry! That was definitely a start!" He handed Ulquiorra a bar of Honeydukes best chocolate. "Eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?" Ulquiorra nodded, biting into the chocolate, grateful it wasn't shaped like any type of animal. A thought occurred. "Professor Lupin?" he said. "If you knew my father, you must have known Sirius Black as well." Lupin turned very quickly. "What gives you that idea?" he said sharply. Ulquiorra blinked at the slight overreaction. "Nothing. I knew they were friends at Hogwarts as well…" Lupin's face relaxed.

"Yes, I knew him," he said shortly. "Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, Harry, it's getting late."

* * *

"What is under the Dementors' hood?" Ulquiorra asked suddenly after his weekly Anti-Dementor lesson while he and Professor Lupin nursed bottles of butterbeer. "Hmmm… well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and worst weapon."

"What is that?"

"They call it the Dementor's Kiss," said Lupin, with a slightly twisted smile. "It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and — and suck out his soul." Ulquiorra choked. "That's repugnant."

"It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black. It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the Dementors permission to perform it if they find him." Ulquiorra sat in his chair quietly. "Repugnant." He repeated to himself softly. Lupin 'Hmmm'ed in agreement.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at his rival Seeker in the match. Cho Chang, a aisan fourth year that was about a head shorter then him. She smiled at him. Nerves streaked through him, and not because of the match.

Ulquiorra might've blushed.

* * *

A Hogsmeade trip was scheduled. Ulquiorra pondered on going.

...Nah. He was reckless, not stupid.

* * *

Ulquiorra sat in Snape's simply repulsive office warily. He had absolutely no idea why he was here. None at all. "Mr. Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter," said Snape. Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"Mr. Malfoy saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?"

"I can imagine many things," said Ulquiorra, now annoyed. Seriously, _why_ was he here? "I doubt they would be relevant to the situation."

"It was your head, Potter. Floating in midair." Ulquiorra blinked. Blinked some more. And then blinked a few more times. "...Are you serious?" Ulquiorra asked blankly. "What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" said Snape softly. "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade." Ulquiorra sighed. "I am perfectly aware. It appears that Malfoy is trying to get me in trouble. Perhaps to prevent my participation in the next Quidd-"

"Malfoy is not having hallucinations," snarled Snape, and he bent down, a hand on each arm of Ulquiorra's chair, so that their faces were a foot apart, a fact that Ulquiorra found quite uncomfortable. "If your head was in Hogsmeade, so was the rest of you."

"I have been in the library." And he had. Ulquiorra had been in the library researching time travel. It was possible, with an object called a 'Time Turner'. Ulquiorra now knew how Hermione was getting to her classes. "Can anyone confirm that?" Snape asked silkily and Ulquiorra looked up in thought. "Hmmmm...well, there was that 7th year. Ravenclaw, I think." Ulquiorra thought aloud, and according to Snape's falling face, he was becoming less and less convinced that Ulquiorra had broken any rules. "And Madame Pince. Ah, there was also-"

"Turn out your pockets, Potter!" he spat suddenly. Raising an eyebrow, Ulquiorra did, pulling out the Marauder's Map. Snape stared at the old innocent looking parchment. "What is this?" Ulquiorra stared at him like he was an idiot. "Parchment." He said bluntly. "A material commonly used for writing. It is often associated with the quill, a utensil-"

"I know what parchment is Potter!" Snape snarled furiously. He picked it up and moved to the fire. "Surely you don't need such an _old_ piece of parchment? Why don't I just throw it away..."

"No." Ulquiorra said coldly. Snape's eyes flashed. "So!" said Snape, his long nostrils quivering. "A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink? Or instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the Dementors?" Ulquiorra sighed. Snape's eyes gleamed. "Let me see, let me see…" he muttered, taking out his wand and smoothing the map out on his desk. "Reveal your secret!" he said, touching the wand to the parchment. Nothing happened. Ulquiorra took his right hand from his pocket and checked his watch. Lunch would begin soon. "Show yourself!" Snape said, tapping the map sharply. It stayed blank. Ulquiorra looked around the office, disgusted at the various jars lining the walls. "Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!" Snape said, hitting the map with his wand. Words appeared smoothly on the map as the a invisible hand was writing on it.

_"Mr. Mooney presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business." _

Snape stared, furious. Ulquiorra stared, trying his best not to smirk.

_"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Mooney and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."_

Ulquiorra snorted, which he quickly disguised as a cough. This was truly quite hilarious, Snape's outraged face adding to the fun.

_"Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor." _

_I think I am dying._ Ulquiorra thought as his insides burned from remaining so impassive.

_"Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimball."_

"So…" said Snape softly. "We'll see about this…" He strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames. "Lupin!" Snape called into the fire. "I want a word!" Utterly bewildered, Ulquiorra stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes. "You called, Severus?" said Lupin mildly.

"I certainly did," said Snape, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this." Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin's face. "Well?" said Snape. Lupin continued to stare at the map. Ulquiorra had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking, though not completely sure why.

"Well?" said Snape again. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?" Lupin looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Ulquiorra's direction, warned him not to interrupt. Like he was that stupid. "Full of Dark Magic?" he repeated mildly. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop —"

"Indeed?" said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it _directly from the manufacturers_?" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" Lupin said. "Harry, do you know any of these men?"

"No," said Ulquiorra firmly, checking his watch again. Damn, lunch would be over soon...

"You see, Severus?" said Lupin, turning back to Snape. "It looks like a Zonko product to me." Snape glared.

* * *

"Well!" said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. "Ah, Harry. I'd like a word about the vampire essay. Excuse us, Serverus." Lupin then hustled Ulquiorra out of the room. They made it to the entrance hall when Ulquiorra turned to Lupin, face impassive.

"Professor-"

"I don't want to hear explanations," said Lupin shortly. Ulquiorra blinked. He wasn't planning on giving one, he just wanted the map back and to get lunch. Lupin glanced around the empty entrance hall and lowered his voice. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said as Ulquiorra's eyes widened slightly. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry." Yeah, once Ulquiorra realized that Lupin knew what it was, that was pretty obvious.

"Why did Snape think I had received it from the manufacturers?"

"Because…" Lupin hesitated, "because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."

"Do you know them?" said Ulquiorra, impressed. The map was quite extraordinary, after all.

"We've met," he said shortly. After Lupin was done with his guilt trip that absolutely no effect since Ulquiorra had been in the damn library, Ulquiorra walked in to get lunch.

* * *

Buckbeak was to be executed.

...Well, that just sucks.

* * *

Hermione bitched slapped Malfoy.

Hermione. Bitch slapping.

And it was _Malfoy_.

Ulquiorra wondered if he had acted like such a bastard when the woman slapped _him_.

If he had, he really couldn't blame her, sad to say.

* * *

Ulquiorra won the game. The Quidditch Cup was Gryffindors'.

Now if only Wood would stop _sobbing_ on his shoulder, things would be perfect.

* * *

Final exams were easy, as always. Ulquiorra, funnily enough, had a great skill for Potions, much to Snape's displeasure.

* * *

Divination was simple. Ulquiorra made some shit up about Buckbeak and it was over. He got up to leave but whirled around just as fast when a loud harsh voice rang out through the room.

"**IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT." **Ulquiorra blinked. "Excuse me?"

Professor Trelawney looked like she was about to suffer a serious seizure. Her eyes were unfocused, her mouth was sagging and her eyes began to roll.

"**THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT'S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT… BEFORE MIDNIGHT… THE SERVANT… WILL SET OUT… TO REJOIN… HIS MASTER…"**

Minutes later, as Professor Trelawney ushered the very confused Ulquiorra out of the classroom, dreamy and completely normal, all Ulquiorra would think was;

_What the _**_fuck_**_ just happened?_

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra grunted as the gigantic dog pinned him to the ground, but he hadn't spent the entire summer and year conditioning his body for nothing. Using his legs, he kicked the dog's belly and pushed it off of him. Sitting up, he saw the dog bound away for a new attack. The dog fastened it's jaw into Ron's arm and began to drag him away like a rag doll. Ulquiorra grabbed some it's fur, but it had no effect and he was thrown back as something slapped him in the face.

"Lumos." Pale wandlight illuminated the darkend night. And Ulquiorra knew what had pushed him back.

They had chased the damned rat straight to the Whomping Willow.

* * *

All they could see now was one of Ron's legs, which he had hooked around a root in an effort to stop the dog from pulling him farther underground — but a horrible crack cut the air like a gunshot; Ron's leg had broken, and a moment later, his foot vanished from sight. "Harry!" Hermione panted, cut in the shoulder. "We've...got to get help." Ulquiorra glared at her. "There is no time. That thing is large enough to _consume_ him without trouble."

"We'll never get in if we don't!" Hermione wailed. Ulquiorra ran forward. "If that beast can get in, so can we." Darting back and forth, his human body was still not strong or fast enough to get past the Willow, and it punched him back. "Oh, help, help," Ulquiorra heard Hermione whisper frantically, dancing uncertainly on the spot, "Please…" Crookshanks darted forward. He slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk. Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook. "Crookshanks!" Hermione whispered uncertainly. She now grasped Ulquiorra's arm painfully hard and he winced, extracting himself from her painful clutches. "How did he know —?"

"He is a comrade of the dog," said Ulquiorra grimly. "I have seen them together. Come on. And keep your wand out ." **  
**

**

* * *

**

On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which stuck out at a strange angle, was Ron. Harry and Hermione dashed across to him. "Ron! Are you okay?"

"Where is the dog?"

"Not a dog," Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. "Harry, it's a trap —"

"What —"

"He's the dog… he's an Animagus." Ron was staring over Ulquiorra's shoulder. Ulquiorra wheeled around. With a snap, the man in the shadows closed the door behind them. Ulquiorra's eyes widened.

Sirius Black.

* * *

"You betrayed Mother and Father." Ulquiorra accused. And Hermione trembled. "No Harry!" Ulquiorra ran forward, and Black, not expecting him to do something this moronic, stood defenseless. Ulquiorra spun on his heel and roundhouse kicked Black in the jaw, sending him crashing into the wall. Hermione squeaked, and Ron gaped. Ulquiorra strode over to Black, cold hate in his eyes, and pulled him up by the collar. Black moved to grab Ulquiorra's neck, presumbably to choke him. Ulquiorra's hand darted out and caught his wrist and they glared at each other. "I've waited...far too long." Black rasped and Ulquiorra stared down at him coldly. Ulquiorra suddenly let go of Black as Crookshanks sank his claws into his leg. Eyes narrowed, Ulquiorra shook the cat off. _I __**hate **__cats. So much._

* * *

Ulquiorra stared in astonishment as Lupin and Black embraced each other like they were long lost brothers. Ulquiorra's eye's narrowed. "I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed. Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You — you —"

"Hermione —"

"– you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down —"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you —"

"Hermione, listen to me, please" Lupin shouted. "I can explain —" Ulquiorra turned to Lupin, eyes shadowed.

"I trusted you," he said quietly to Lupin, "and all the time you have been his friend."

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain…" Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. _Please do. This...does not make sense. Their conversation..._

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too — he's a werewolf!" Silence blanketed the room and Ulquiorra blinked. "Well, yes." agreed Ulquiorra blankly, receiving many stunned stares. "He is indeed. I do not see what that has to do with the situation." Everyone gaped at him. "You _knew?_" Hermione asked incredulously. Ulquiorra shrugged, his hands had returned to his pockets. "Oh yes." He admitted easily. "It was very obvious. Was not all that hard, to be honest." Silence. Black leaned over to Lupin. "He inherited more of Lily's genetics. Didn't he?" Lupin nodded. "It appears. How long have you known?"

"Since Snape taught us about werewolves in class. I did not have to do the essay, it was quite obvious just from the chapter description."

Lupin forced a laugh. "You certainly are much more clever then I thought Harry!" Ulquiorra's eye twitched. _Is he implying that I looked stupid?_

_

* * *

_

"If you have not been helping him," Ulquiorra said, with a cold glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —" "

You know how to work it?" Ulquiorra said suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony . That was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"You wrote —?"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?" He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. "You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry, but even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Ulquiorra. "No. There was no one else."

"I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Ulquiorra's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us. No one but the rat..." said Ulquiorra, trailing off. Eyes darted to Scabbers, but Ulquiorra's eyes were on Sirius Black. _If he was an Animagus...then is it possible...?_

_

* * *

_

"But apart from my transformations," Lupin continued, explaining how it all happened, "I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black… Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, your father, Harry — James Potter. Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth… And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi." Ulquiorra's eyes widened again.

"Father too?" said Ulquiorra, astounded. _Such advanced magic..._ "Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it."

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled. "They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed… Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus." Black growled, eyes trained on the rat, hunger in his eyes. "Yes, I'm getting there," Lupin said absentmindedly, "well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

* * *

Ulquiorra stared in irritation at Snape. How dare he lay his (filthy) hands on his father's cloak. Bastard. "I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you…" Ulquiorra twitched. _Ugh._ Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" he said, his eyes glittering. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus —" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him. "I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout —"

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything. I can explain — Sirius is not here to kill Harry —"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. Ulquiorra stared warily. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this… He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin… a tame werewolf —"

"You fool," said Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?" BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes. "Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will." Black froze, eyes glaring with uttermost loathing. Hermione took a hesitant step forward. "Professor...It wouldn't hurt to hear what they have to say..."

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue."

"But if — if there was a mistake —"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…"

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle," he jerked his head at Ron, "I'll come quietly…"

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black… pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay… " What little color there was in Black's face left it. "You — you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat — look at the rat —" But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that Ulquiorra had seen many, many times.

It was the same insanity that plagued Szayel Aporro. That glinted in the Espada's amber eyes until his final moments.

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him too —" Ulquiorra stepped in front of Snape. "Stop. You are not thinking clearly. Professor Lupin had plenty of opportunity to end my life. Yet he did not. Release him. Do not act like pathetic trash."

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black — now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!" Ulquiorra stared at the deranged man. His eyes closed.

"How troublesome." Moving so fast that he blurred, Ulquiorra raised his wand. "Expelliarmus." Snape immediately released Lupin, and Ulquiorra used his shock to his advantage. Pulling his leg upwards, he swung it horizontally, feeling his foot slam into Snape's head. He flew backwards, unconscious, and landed in a crumpled heap on the floor. Ulquiorra smirked and Hermione whimpered. "Harry...you attacked a teacher..." Ulquiorra pointed his wand at Black. "It was worth it. He is a brainless piece of trash." Smirk slipping off his face, he stared menacingly into Black's sunken (and approving) gaze. "Talk."

"Mmph!" Lupin struggled against his bonds. Ulquiorra sighed and still pointing his wand at Black said, "...Release him. _Then _talk."

* * *

Ulquiorra believed Black, as absurd as it sounded. Ulquiorra was an analytical kind of guy, and usually followed the more logical and reinforced path. Everything they said, it made sense. As ridiculous as it sounded, everything _fit_.

"So simple… so brilliant… he cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed," said Black. "When I cornered him, he yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with the wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself — and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…"

"Didn't you ever hear, Ron?" said Lupin. "The biggest bit of Peter they found was his finger."

"Look, Scabbers probably had a fight with another rat or something! He's been in my family for ages, right —"

"Twelve years, in fact," said Lupin. "Didn't you ever wonder why he was living so long?"

"We — we've been taking good care of him!" said Ron. "Not looking too good at the moment, though, is he?" said Lupin. "I'd guess he's been losing weight ever since he heard Sirius was on the loose again…"

"Yes." Ulquiorra remembered. "He has been ill since summer. Since you were in Egypt." He looked at Ron, who stared back bewildered. "Remember? We met Crookshanks when we went to buy rat tonic." Ron swallowed, piecing it together. Ulquiorra jolted. "Why?" He asked Black. "Why did he fake his death? You admitted to killing Mother and Father."

"Harry," said Lupin hurriedly, "don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down — but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father — Sirius tracked Peter down —"

"He was their Secret-Keeper. He said he killed them."

"Harry… I as good as killed them," he croaked. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me… I'm to blame, I know it… The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies… I realized what Peter must've done… what I'd done…" He turned away.

"Enough of this," said Lupin, and there was a steely note in his voice Ulquiorra had never heard before. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat." Ron clutched the rat to his chest. "What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?" Ron asked Lupin tensely. "Force him to show himself," said Lupin. "If he really is a rat, it won't hurt him."

Ron gave in and handed them the madly protesting Scabbers.

* * *

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly. The rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and there was a head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. He was a very short man, hardly taller than Ulquiorra and Hermione (Ron was quite tall). His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Ulquiorra saw his eyes dart to the door and back again. Ulquiorra scowled. All his hatred still flowed through his veins like ice. Only it wasn't towards Sirius anymore.

Ulquiorra watched as the rat bastard attempted to talk his way into appearing innocent. When that failed, he tried to appeal to Ulquiorra, Ron and Hermione. And when that failed, Sirius and Lupin turned their wands on him. Ulquiorra paused. Death...death had potential to lead to power...happiness.

That little bastard did not deserve either.

"No." Ulquiorra said suddenly, halting Sirius and Lupin. "Do not kill him."

"Harry!" gasped Pettigrew, and he flung his arms around Harry's knees. "You — thank you — it's more than I deserve — thank you —" Ulquiorra recoiled in disgust. "Do not touch me!" He snarled, kicking him in the face. Ulquiorra inwardly smiled in satisfaction. That felt good. "We will take you to the castle." The glint in his eyes were growing colder, and he smirked. "Then the Dementors can have you."

* * *

"I don't know if anyone ever told you — I'm your godfather." said Black.

"Yes, I knew that," said Ulquiorra.

"Well… your parents appointed me your guardian," said Black stiffly. "If anything happened to them…" Ulquiorra waited eagerly. Did Black mean what he thought he meant? "I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle," said Black. "But… well… think about it. Once my name's cleared… if you wanted a… a different home…" Ulquiorra eyes widened. "And live with you? Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," said Black quickly. "I understand, I just thought I'd —" Ulquiorra interupted. "Hell yes." Black blinked. "Huh?"

"Of course I want to leave the Dursleys. Do you have a house? When can I move in?"

* * *

Ulquiorra watched in horror as Lupin went through the gruesome transformation and as Ron collapsed and Pettigrew vanished.

"God dammit."

* * *

Ulquiorra panted, cold sweat clinging to his skin. "Get...away." He gasped. "Expecto Patronum." His feeble Patrounus hovered between himself and a Dementor. It brushed it aside. Despair consumed him. "No." He moaned as one slimy hand curled around his neck. "He...He..." Ulquiorra felt the rattling breath and went limp.

_What is the heart? _It was over. He was going to be consumed.

_SLAP! Harsh breathing, and she stares at you with anger. _There was a light. Growing brighter. He hit the grassy earth.

The air...it was warm.

Ulquiorra let the darkness take him.

* * *

"What we need," said Dumbledore slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Ulquiorra to Hermione, "is more time." Ulquiorra blinked. _More-_

..._Oh._

* * *

"Harry, I don't understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us to go back three hours? How's that going to help Sirius?" Ulquiorra thought. "What were we doing three hours ago?" Hermione blinked. "We were going to Hagrid's...Buckbeak is about to...be...executed..." Hermione trailed off and Ulquiorra sighed.

"This will be challenging."

Hermione made a small noise of agreement.

* * *

They made their way silently through the trees, keeping to the very edge of the forest. Then, as they glimpsed the front of Hagrid's house, they heard a knock upon his door. They moved quickly behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from either side. Hagrid had appeared in his doorway, shaking and white, looking around to see who had knocked. And Ulquiorra heard his own voice speak monotonously. "It is us. We are wearing the Invisibility Cloak."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door quickly.

"This is the weirdest thing we have ever done," Ulquiorra said fervently. _Does my voice really sound like that? I sound like a total bastard._ "Let's move along a bit," Hermione whispered. "We need to get nearer to Buckbeak!"

* * *

"Where is the beast?" came the cold voice of Macnair (the executioner) from inside Hagrid's hut.

"Out — outside," Hagrid croaked. Ulquiorra pulled his head out of sight as Macnair's face appeared at Hagrid's window, staring out at Buckbeak. Then they heard Fudge. "We — er — have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I'll make it quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, You're supposed to listen too, that's procedure-" Macnair's face vanished from the window. It was now or never.

_Here goes...well, pretty much everything._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra quickly approached the relaxed Hippogriff and bowed, not breaking eye contact or blinking (something he was very good at). Buckbeak bowed to him and Ulquiorra nimbly undid the rope tying him to the fence and began to pull on it. Buckbeak didn't want to move, and dug his front feet into the ground as Ulquiorra tugged on the rope.

"… sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair…"

"Come on, Buckbeak," Ulquiorra muttered, "come on, we are going to help you."

"… as witnessed below. Hagrid, you sign here…" Ulquiorra grunted, putting all his weight onto the rope so the damn creature would move. Buckbeak finally began to follow, ruffling his wings irritatedly. They were still ten feet away from the forest, in plain view of Hagrid's back door. "One moment, please, Macnair," came Dumbledore's voice. "You need to sign too." Approaching footsteps stopped. Ulquiorra heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his beak and walked a little faster. Hermione's white face was sticking out from behind a tree.

"Harry, hurry!" she mouthed. He gave the rope another wrench. Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot. They had reached the trees. "Quick! Quick!" Hermione moaned, darting out from behind her tree, seizing the rope too and adding her weight to make Buckbeak move faster. Ulquiorra looked over his shoulder; they were now blocked from sight; they couldn't see Hagrid's garden at all.

* * *

And there were the Dementors. They were emerging out of the darkness from every direction, gliding around the edges of the lake. They were moving away from where Ulquiorra stood, to the opposite bank. He thought he had seen his father...would it be truly impossible for him to appear? There was a bush at the very edge of the water. Ulquiorra ducked behind it, peering through the leaves. On the opposite bank, the glimmers of silver were suddenly extinguished. His Patrounus has died. No one was coming. Ulquiorra raised his head to look at the circle of Dementors across the lake. One of them was lowering its hood. It was time for the rescuer to appear ... but no one was coming to help this time. Unless...

Ulquiorra flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" And out of the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a blinding, dazzling, silver creature. It definitely had the silhouette of a voluptuous woman with long waist length hair and long horns protruding from her head. Thick fur covered her body from her breasts to taloned feet. Her shoulders were bare, but the same fur cover her hands up to her forearms. Her long tail slapped the ground as her demonic wings carried her into flight as she soared towards the Dementors, wielding a long lance in clawed hands. It charged the Dementors surrounding himself, Hermione and Sirius; swiping at them with her tail and lance. The Dementors fell back, and retreated back into the darkness.

His Patronus flew back to him and touched onto the ground in front of him. It looked at him from large silver eyes and saluted, before vanishing into the air like mist in a windy morning.

* * *

"There." Ulquiorra said, spotting Sirius as they rose up beside the window. He reached out, and as Buckbeak's wings fell, was able to tap sharply on the glass. Sirius looked up and Ulquiorra saw his jaw drop. He leapt from his chair, hurried to the window and tried to open it, but it was locked.

"Stand back!" Hermione called to him, and she took out her wand, still gripping the back of Ulquiorra's robes with her left hand. "Alohomora!" The window sprang open and Sirius leaned out of it, completely stunned. "How — how —?" said Black weakly, staring at the two students and Buckbeak.

"Get on. We are running out of time," said Ulquiorra, gripping Buckbeak firmly on either side of his sleek neck to hold him steady. "You must get out of here. The Dementors are coming. Macnair has gone to get them."

Black, being as thin as a skeleton, was able to slip thorough the window easily and fling a leg over the Hippogriff, behind Hermione. Ulquiorra tugged the rope still attached to Buckbeak's neck upwards. "Up." He commanded and they soared higher to the top of the West Tower. Ulquiorra and Hermione slid off immediately once they had landed.

"Sirius, you must leave quickly," Ulquiorra ordered. "They will reach Flitwick's office any moment and they will find out you have escaped." Black stared helplessly. "What happened to the other boy? Ron?" croaked Sirius.

"He is fine. Go."

"How can I ever thank —"

"GO!" Ulquiorra and Hermione shouted together. Black wheeled Buckbeak around, facing the open sky. "We'll see each other again," he said. "You are — truly your father's son, Harry…" He squeezed Buckbeak's sides with his heels and Ulquiorra and Hermione jumped back as the enormous wings rose once more. The Hippogriff took off into the air and hee and his rider became smaller and smaller as Ulquiorra gazed after them. Then a cloud drifted across the moon, and they were gone.

* * *

"Excuse me?" said Ulquiorra, raising an eyebrow. "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er — Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'… Thought everyone'd know by now… Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night… He's packin' now, o' course."

"He is packing?" said Ulquiorra, alarmed. "Why?"

"Leavin', isn' he?" said Hagrid, looking surprised that Ulquiorra had to ask (Ulquiorra was surprised he had to ask too). "Resigned firs' thing this mornin'. Says he can't risk it happenin again." Ulquiorra stood up fluidly and walked towards the castle. "I am going to talk to Professor Lupin."

* * *

Lupin's office door was open. He had already packed most of his things. The Grindylow's (a creature Ulquiorra despised, for the sole reason that it sounded eerily like 'Grimmjow') empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was open and nearly full. Lupin was bending over something on his desk and looked up only when Ulquiorra knocked on the door. "I saw you coming," said Lupin, smiling. He pointed to the parchment he had been poring over and Ulquiorra saw it was the Marauder's Map. "I just saw Hagrid," said Ulquiorra slowly. "And he said you had resigned."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Lupin. He started opening his desk drawers and taking out the contents.

"Why?" Ulquiorra asked. "The Ministry of Magic do not think you were helping Sirius, do they?" Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind Ulquiorra. "No. Professor Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives." He sighed. "That was the final straw for Severus. I think the loss of the Order of Merlin hit him hard. So he — er — accidentally let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast."

"You are leaving just because of that?" said Ulqiuorra incredulously. Lupin smiled wryly. "This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents… They will not want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see their point. I could have bitten any of you… That must never happen again."

"You are the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we have ever had." Ulquiorra protested. Lupin shook his head and didn't speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then, while Ulquiorra was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin said, "From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything I've done this year, it's how much you've learned… Tell me about your Patronus." Ulquiorra told him and Lupin looked thoughtful. "Quite an interesting Patronus, Harry. Oddly enough, I'd say it suits you." Ulquiorra looked out the window. "My father...what animal could he become?" Lupin smiled.

"Your father was always a stag when he transformed," he said. "That's why we called him Prongs. Here — I brought this from the Shrieking Shack last night," he said, handing Ulquiorra back the Invisibility Cloak. "And…" He hesitated, then held out the Marauder's Map too. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you back this as well. It's no use to me, and I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find uses for it." Ulquiorra took the map.

"Thank you, Professor."

* * *

"It did not make any difference," said Ulquiorra bitterly. "Pettigrew got away."

"Didn't make any difference?" said Dumbledore quietly, "it made all the difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate." Terrible. Greater and more terrible than ever before… Professor Trelawney's prediction. "Professor Dumbledore. Yesterday, when I was having my Divination exam, Professor Trelawney acted very strange."

"Indeed?" said Dumbledore. "Er — stranger than usual, you mean?"

"Yes… her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said… she said Voldemort's servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight… She said the servant would help him come back to power." Ulquiorra stared up at the wise Headmaster. "And then she became normal again, and she could not remember anything she had said. Was she making a real prediction?" Dumbledore looked mildly impressed.

"Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been." he said thoughtfully. "Who'd have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise…" Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. _Two? What was the first one?_

"I stopped Sirius and Professor Lupin from killing Pettigrew. That makes it my fault if Voldemort comes back."

"It does not," said Dumbledore quietly. "Hasn't your experience with the Time-Turner taught you anything, Harry? The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business indeed… Professor Trelawney, bless her, is living proof of that… You did a very noble thing, in saving Pettigrew's life."

"But if he helps Voldemort back to power…"

"Pettigrew owes his life to you. You have sent Voldemort a deputy who is in your debt… When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them… and I'm much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servant in the debt of Harry Potter."

"I do not want a connection with Pettigrew." said Ulquiorra sullenly. "He betrayed my parents. And he is a worthless coward."

"This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable, Harry. But trust me… the time may come when you will be very glad you saved Pettigrew's life." Ulquiorra couldn't imagine when that would be. Dumbledore looked as though he knew what Ulquiorra was thinking. "I knew your father very well, both at Hogwarts and later, Harry," he said gently. "He would have saved Pettigrew too, I am sure of it." _I see...not why I saved him, but good to know, I suppose._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra certainly wasn't the only one who was sorry to see Professor Lupin go. The whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class was miserable about his resignation. "Wonder what they'll give us next year?" said Seamus Finnigan gloomily.

"Maybe a vampire," suggested Dean Thomas hopefully. **A girl tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe...a warrior from a secret society of the dead!" She exclaimed. Everyone looked at her oddly. She blushed. "Sorry. I just ate a lot of candy." she muttered sheepishly. Ulquiorra sighed.**

**

* * *

**

Ulquiorra picked up the letter the small hyperactive owl dropped into their train compartment. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter, "It is from Sirius."

"What?" said Ron and Hermione excitedly. "Read it aloud!"

_**Dear Harry, **_

_**I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post. Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job. I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted. There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt —**_

_Ah. I knew it._ Ulquiorra thought smugly.

_**-Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather. I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you. I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable. If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me.**_

_**I'll write again soon. **_

_**Sirius**_

Curiously, Ulquiorra tipped the envelope sideways and another smaller piece of parchment fell out.

_**I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. **_

Ulquiorra smirked triumphantly. "That is good enough for Dumbledore. ...Oh, there is a P.S..."

_**I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat. **_

Ron blinked. "What, really?"He looked at the minuture owl doubtfully. Then, to Ulquiorra's and Hermione's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?" Crookshanks purred. "That's good enough for me," said Ron happily. "He's mine."

* * *

"What's that?" Vernon Dursley snarled, staring at the envelope that was sticking out of Ulquiorra's jacket pocket. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another —"

"Do not worry," said Ulquiorra cheerfully, or as cheerful as Ulquiorra could get, which wasn't much. "It is just a letter from my godfather."

"Godfather?" sputtered Uncle Vernon. "You haven't got a godfather!"

"Yes, I have," said Ulquiorra brightly, well, as brightly as...you get the idea. "He was my Mother and Father's best friend. He is a convicted murderer, but he has broken out of wizard prison and he is currently on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though. Keep up with my news… check if I am happy…" And, smirking smugly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Ulquiorra strode off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

* * *

**A/N: ...so...long...**

**Well, hope you guys liked it. Can you guess what Ulquiorra's Patronus was? I hope you can, I really do. There will be no contest this time because the only reason the I chose this chapter to be the Sloth was because all the other sins were taken.**

**...actually there is a contest. Tell me a good reason that this was the sloth and I'll put in cameo appearence. Like before, please tell my your gender if you do. It _will_ help.**

**Review and chibi Ulquiorra will give you hugs!  
**


	5. Year 4: Lust

**A/N: ...GAH. So. long. Anyway, here's the lust. We diverge from cannon! Not enough to change the entire plot, it still ends the same way, but we diverge from cannon! Woo!**

**Icyfyre, B-Twili, Kisa Teh Puppy, and Enevlon all gave great ideas for why last chapter was the sloth (and told me their genders) since I had absolutely no idea! General agreement seems that it was the sloth since Ulquiorra didn't really do much compared to the other chapters, since he didn't do a giant showdown with Voldie. Also, there was that Ulquiorra didn't really make much effort into talking with ****Murciélago. In this chapter they chat.**

**Ulquiorra's Patronus is ****Murciélago. Some people thought it was Orihime with ****Murciélago's powers or something along those lines.  
**

**In this chapter, there's a LOT of dialogue. Not even new dialogue. It's the dialogue from the books that's really long but is needed for the plot of the chapter since it's all explanation stuff. Like how in Bleach episodes they always talk for a really long time in the battles when they could be killing each other like their supposed to. **

**I don't own bleach or Harry Potter.  
**

_**Year 4: Lust**_

Murciélago was waiting.

Unfortunately, she wasn't as patient as her beloved master.

"GAH! HURRY UP AND SUMMON ME, DUMBASS!" She screamed from within Ulquiorra's inner world, which was a dark, damp, underground cave. A vast cold lake glinted an eerie green, casting aquatic shadows on the stalactites and stalagmites. Tail whisking back and forth agitatedly, she grumbled under her breath. "Stupid Ulquiorra, not summoning me. Not calling out my name. Wanting to keep a human identity to learn more about the heart to impress that woman. Not...not... OH WILL YOU STOP THAT!" She yelled out at Ulquiorra's other inner world occupant. The other being blinked. "Stop what?" He asked innocently, and Murciélago scoffed. "I know what you're doing." The other being rolled his eyes. "Look, I can't help it! The kid should learn Occulemency or something. It's not my fault." Murciélago growled.

"God, I hate you." Murciélago seethed, stalking off.

"Feeling's mutual." Voldemort's soul fragment shot back huffily, storming off in the opposite direction.

* * *

Ulquiorra awoke from a particularly vivid dream. "The Quidditch World Cup?" Ulquiorra murmured. "What will happen at the Qudditch World Cup?" Sitting up from his bed, he massaged his forehead, his aching scar, to be accurate, wearily. Voldemort's high cold voice, Wormtail, the old Muggle man... Ulquiorra got up from bed.

"I am too old for this." He grumbled irritably as he walked to his desk to write to Sirius. As Ulquiorra finished his letter, the sun crept higher and higher into the sky and he leaned back in his chair, looking over his letter.

_Dear Sirius, _

_Thank you for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window. Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet is not going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they would have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That is a sort of computer you can play games on. It is a rather stupid really, now he has not even got 'Mega-Mutilation Part Three' to take his mind off things. I am okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to. _

Ulquiorra smirked. That was true. Now that Ulquiorra had a godfather that happened to be known as a mass murderer, The Dursleys' were stepping eggshells around him and avoiding him, something he was very happy about. Of course, Ulquiorra 'forgot' to mention that Sirius was innocent.

_A very strange thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But he cannot be anywhere near me now. What are your thoughts on the matter?_

_Give my regards to Buckbeak. _

_Harry Potter_

Satisfied, Ulquiorra put the letter down and went to his wardrobe to get dressed and head down to breakfast.

Won't that be fun?

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the small quarter of the unsweetened grapefruit on his plate. He sighed, then began to eat. Hunger was not new to him, and he had tasted more repulsive things than a grapefruit. Really, hollow flesh did NOT taste good, even to power-mad ravenous hollows.

Luckily, Ulquiorra's friends had sent him snacks upon his request, and on his birthday he had received birthday cake from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and Sirius so he wouldn't have to feel the familiar and unwanted feelings of starvation.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared in amusement at the letter covered in stamps except for a very small section with the Dursley family address crammed in it in small smushed handwriting. "They definitely put enough stamps on." Ulquiorra said lightly, watching as his uncle's face turned a odd shade of red. "The postman noticed," he said through gritted teeth. "Very interested to know where this letter came from, he was. That's why he rang the doorbell. Seemed to think it was funny." Ulquiorra agreed with the postman. There was a awkward silence after that.

"So may I go?" Ulquiorra asked carefully. A slight spasm crossed Vernon's large purple face. Ulquiorra knew what was going on in his dim head: a furious battle as two of Vernon's most key instincts came into conflict. Allowing Ulquiorra to go would make Ulquiorra happy, something Vernon had struggled against for thirteen years. On the other hand, allowing Ulquiorra to disappear to the Weasleys' for the rest of the summer would get rid of him two weeks earlier than anyone could have hoped, and Vernon hated having Ulquiorra in the house. Ulquiorra sighed.

* * *

"Very well. I cannot go to the Quidditch World Cup. May I leave? I have to deliever a letter to Sirius." Ulquiorra threw out, inwardly smirking at the shade of red and purple his uncle turned. _Ah, blackmail. Never fails._

* * *

_Harry - DAD GOT THE TICKETS - Ireland versus Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum's writing to the Muggles to ask you to stay. They might already have the letter, I don't know how fast Muggle post is. Thought I'd send this with Pig anyway._

Ulquiorra, raising an eyebrow, stared at the word "Pig," then looked up at the tiny owl now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling. He had never seen anything that looked less like a pig. Maybe he couldn't read Ron's writing. Completely possible, since Ron had chicken scratch for writing. He went back to the letter.

_We're coming for you whether the Muggles like it or not, you can't miss the World Cup, only Mum __and Dad reckon it's better if we pretend to ask their permission first. If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto, and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday anyway. Hermione's arriving this afternoon. Percy's started work - the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Don't mention anything about Abroad while you're here unless you want the pants bored off you. _

_See you soon,_

_Ron._

* * *

Voices could be heard from inside the blocked fireplace. Ulquiorra's mouth might've twitched in amusement.

Maybe.

Murciélago was certainly making no effort to hide her amusement. In fact, she was currently laughing her ass off, her delighted cackling ringing in Ulquiorra's ears.

"Ouch! Fred, no - go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake – tell George not to - OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron-"

"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad - maybe he'll be able to let us out-" There was a loud hammering of desperate fists on the boards behind the electric fire. "Harry? Harry, can you hear us?" The Dursleys rounded on Ulquiorra like a pair of angry wolves. "What is this?" growled Uncle Vernon. "What's going on?"

"They have tried to get here by Floo powder," said Ulquiorra, as though it should be obvious to the ignorant Dursleys. "They can travel by fire. Only you have blocked the fireplace." He approached the fireplace and called through the boards. "Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?" The hammering stopped. Somebody inside the chimney piece said, "Shh!"

"Mr. Weasley, it is Harry… the fireplace has been blocked up. You will not be able to get through there."

"Damn!" said Mr. Weasley's voice. "What on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?"

"They have an electric fire," Ulquiorra explained, anticipating Mr. Weasely's joy.

"Really?" said Mr. Weasley's, predictably, excited voice. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that… Let's think… ouch, Ron!" Ron's voice now joined the others'. "What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?"

"Oh no, Ron," came Fred's voice, very sarcastically. "No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up."

"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," said George, whose voice sounded muffled, as though he was squashed against the wall. "Boys, boys…" said Mr. Weasley vaguely. "I'm trying to think what to do… Yes… only way… Stand back, Harry." Ulquiorra backed away quickly to the sofa. His uncle, on the other hand, was not smart enough to do so. "What're you-?"

BANG!

The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded-up fireplace burst outward, expelling Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron in a cloud of rubble and loose chippings. Ulquiorra coughed, waving his hand to blow away the dust.

_**That was AWESOME.**_

_Whatever you say._

_

* * *

_

"What was it?" Ulquiorra asked quizzically to Fred and George. They grinned. "Ton-Tongue Toffee. We've been looking for someone to test them all summer" The kitchen exploded into laughter and Ulquiorra allowed a small smirk. The sight of Dudley choking on his own over sized tongue was rather entertaining.

* * *

"You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?" Ulquiorra's ears perked up at the mention of Bertha Jorkins. _Voldemort mentioned her in my dream..._

"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried…"

"Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right," said Percy. "I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth… but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her - but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However," Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine, "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup." Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. "You know the one I'm talking about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one." Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons." Ulquiorra doubted that. _It must involve us, if he is taking such care in raising his voice for us to hear. _Ulquiorra sighed and turned back to his food. _Will I ever live anything resembling normality?_

**_Nope._**

* * *

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Ulquiorra had seen so far, and by noticeable, he meant ridiculous. That was even including the old wizard they had seen in a flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black and enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed, as the robes were stretched tightly across his large belly. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Ulquiorra mused), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like overgrown schoolboy. "Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily, was plainly in a state of frenzied excitement.

"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter." Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Ulquiorra's 'name', and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Ulquiorra's forehead while he inwardly rolled his eyes.

_**Typical.**_

_Extremely._ Ulquiorra thought dryly.

* * *

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium. "Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again… and again… and again…"

Ulquiorra faced palmed, while Murciélago laughed.

She often found things that Ulquiorra found completely ridiculous absolutely hilarious.

* * *

Ulquiorra was deeply unsettled after the Bulgaria's mascots preformed for them. Such bewitching women...

And not in the good way.

* * *

"Krum has got the Snitch. It is over." Ulquiorra stated firmly. Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight. "IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!" _Fred and George were._

_**'Fo sho.**_

…

_**...Can't pull that off, can I?**_

_Not in the slightest._

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess…" Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow.

_Hmmm...an interesting development._

* * *

The Weaselys, Hermione began to descend the stairs to head back to their tent. Ulquiorra was about to follow when he was startled by a loud exclamation.

"I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!" A loud, and angry, male voice shouted. The voice sounded very familiar...so obnoxiously familiar...

_**Eeeeee! It's Pantera! **_ Murciélago squealed to Ulquiorra's total horror. **_Pantera's so HOT. _**She continued dreamily, oblivious to Ulquiorra disgust and mental pain. Ulquiorra slowly turned, asking, _praying,_ that it wasn't him. _**Anyone **_but _him._

Ulquiorra turned, and came face to face with a very peeved, maskless, and blonde Grimmjow Jaggerjaques.

* * *

Ulquiorra twitched. He didn't know what was worse. That Grimmjow was here (Why, _why_, was he here?), or that _his_ Zanpaktou was attracted to _Grimmjow's_ Zanpaktou.

Both were unspeakable horrors.

"I am sorry." Ulquiorra gritted out. "I do not believe we have met." Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. "Please, I'd know your sorry and annoying ass anywhere Quartro." Ulquiorra's eye began twitching. Ulquiorra could handle this. He'd handled the moron plenty of times before-

"Still moping about the woman? 'Cuz I hear she hooked up with Kurosaki." Grimmjow was smirking, knowing that would piss him off.

Ulquiorra, in turn, quite calmly, he might add; punched him in the face.

It was five more minutes before Ulquiorra's companions returned to see where he had gone, and by then they were already trying to kill each other by pushing the other one out of the Top Box and to their painful death.

* * *

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron shouted incredulously as they made their way back to their tents, Ulquiorra now nursing a black eye. Ulquiorra, however ridiculous he looked, and despite their incredulous (Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Charlie, and Bill), and disapproving (Mr. Weasely and Percy) looks...

...Well, the twins were grinning like killer clowns, and laughing.

Anyway, Ulquiorra looked very satisfied.

He'd given the bastard a bloody nose, despite Grimmjow being about a 5 inches taller then him.

Stupid fucker.

* * *

"Get up! Ron - Harry - come on now, get up, this is urgent!" Ulquiorra sat up and his head hit the canvas of the tent roof. Ulquiorra immediately sensed something was wrong. The Irish supporters were no longer singing, and the air was filled with screams and the tangible taste of fear and destruction. Ulquiorra lept nimbly out of bed, grabbed his jacket and Ron and walked quickly outside.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them and then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the field. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Ulquiorra could see that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Ulquiorra recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee. "That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick…" Ulquiorra agreed.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!" They hastened to the woods, when Ulquiorra heard angry yelling that he was well associated with.

"Oi! Fucker! This is fuckin' sick, dammit!" Ulquiorra turned and saw Grimmjow snarling and confronting two of the masked wizards. "Harry! We have to go!" Hermione said urgently, pulling on his jacket. Ulquiorra nodded, absentmindedly, not moving as he watched the fool punch one of them in the head. Ulquiorra sighed and ran forward towards them, ignoring Hermione and Ron's screams. Approaching the masked wizard, he roundhouse kicked the bastard in the jaw and Grimmjow, catching on (surprisingly) nailed him on the head with...was that a frying pan?

As the masked wizard collapsed, Ulquiorra grabbed Grimmjow by the collar (Ulquiorra noticed that he still wore unbuttoned jackets with rolled up sleeves) and dragged him towards the forest. "Are you retarded?" Ulquiorra asked and Grimmjow snorted. "Fuck you, Emospada." Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Original." He remarked dryly. Grimmjow scowled. Making their way back to the wood, Ulquiorra was immediately welcomed back with a cuff to the head, something he did NOT appreciate. "What the hell, mate?" asked Ron angrily. "We have to move deeper into the woods." Ulquiorra said, deciding to ignore Ron. Grimmjow laughed. Ulquiorra twitched. He had forgotten how much he hated Grimmjow's laugh.

"Th-these are the people you hang out with? Are you- Ha ha- serious?" He mangaged to wheeze out through his laughter. Ulquiorra scowled. "I hate you." He said, and Grimmjow laughed even harder. Ron and Hermione looked at one another.

"Are you two friends?" Grimmjow stopped laughing.

"No." They simultaneously answered, glaring at each other.

* * *

A huddle of teenagers in pajamas was arguing noisily a little way along the path. When they saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a girl with thick curly hair turned and said quickly,

"**Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdu et ont besoin de la trouver.** " Ron gaped. "Er-"

"**Désolé. Je n'ai pas vu Madame Maxine soit.**" Grimmjow said smoothly and the girl's face immediately lit up in relief. "Leroy!" She said in happiness, whilst Ulquiorra and Ron stared, completely baffled. Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow.

"...Leroy?"

"Shut up, Harry."

"..."

**"Etes-vous amis?**" The girl asked curiously. Grimmjow grimaced. **"Aucun.**"

* * *

As Grimmjow and his lady associate walked on, Grimmjow kindly giving Ulquiorra the finger as a goodbye, Hermione muttered, "Beauxbatons."

"Excuse me?" Ulquiorra asked. "They must go to Beauxbatons," said Hermione. "You know… Beauxbatons Academy of Magic… I read about it in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe." Ulquiorra paled.

Grimmjow. Magic.

Grimmjow with _magic._

Oh, dear god.

* * *

Someone was staggering toward their clearing. They waited, but the footsteps came to a sudden halt. "Hello?" called Ulquiorra, who got to his feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark and there were too many trees to see very far, but he could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of his vision. "Who is there?" he said. And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it utteredwhat sounded like a spell. "MORSMORDRE!" And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Ulquiorra's eyes had been struggling to penetrate. It flew up over the treetops and into the sky. "What the -?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared. It was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation. _This is bad. _Ulquiorra thought, aghast.

_**Yup.**_

* * *

Wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at himself, Ron, and Hermione. Without pausing to think, he seized the other two and pulled them down onto the ground. "STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices - there was a blinding series of flashes and Ulquiorra felt the hair on his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising his head a fraction of an inch he saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness— "Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. "STOP! That's my son!" Ulquiorra raised his head a little higher. The wizard in front of him had lowered his wand. He rolled over and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward them, looking terrified. "Ron – Harry," his voice sounded shaky, "Hermione - are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice. It was Mr. Crouch, a high Ministry offical. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them and Ulquiorra got to his feet to face them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage. "Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We did not do that." said Ulquiorra stonily.

"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "What did you want to attack us for?"

"Do not lie, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping and he looked insane. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to." _An authority figure with their sanity still intact. ...Odd._

"Where did the Mark come from, you three?" said Mr. Weasley quickly. "Over there," said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees… they shouted words – an incantation -"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -" But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Ulquiorra, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the skull, since they, apparently, weren't total paranoid morons. "We're too late," said the witch in the woolen dressing gown, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated."

"I don't think so," said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, a wizard they had met on their way to the World Cup. His son, Cedric, was the only one to have ever beaten Ulquiorra at Quidditch, though only by luck and the interference of dementors the previous year. "Our Stunners went right through those trees… There's a good chance we got them…" Hermione watched him vanish into the midnight trees with her hands over her mouth. A few seconds later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout. "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's - but – blimey..."

"You've got someone?" shouted Mr. Crouch, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?" They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Ulquiorra recognized it was Winky, Mr. Crouch's house elf, who had been sitting behind them in the Top Box, at once. For a few seconds Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. "This - cannot - be," he said jerkily. "No -" He moved quickly around Mr. Diggory and strode off toward the place where he had found Winky. "No point, Mr. Crouch," Mr. Diggory called after him. "There's no one else there." Mr. Crouch ignored him, and they could hear him moving around and the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching. "Bit embarrassing," Mr. Diggory said grimly, looking down at Winky's unconscious form. "Barty Crouch's house-elf."

"Come off it, Amos," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "you don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand."

"Yeah," said Mr. Diggory, "and she had a wand."

"What?" said Mr. Weasley. "Here, look." Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr. Weasley. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand."

* * *

"If it's all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself." He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and said, "Ennervate!" Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened and she blinked several times in a confused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself shakily into a sitting position. She caught sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly raised her eyes to stare up into his face; then, even more slowly, she looked up into the sky. She gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs. "Elf!" said Mr. Diggory sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!" Winky began to rock backward and forward on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Ulquiorra felt a stab of, what he assumed, was pity for the creature. "As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," said Mr. Diggory. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!" _**Geez. She has a name.**_ Murciélago muttered.

"I - I - I is not doing it, sir!" Winky gasped. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" barked Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her. And as the wand caught the green light that was filling the clearing from the skull above, Ulquiorra recognized it. "That is my wand." he said Everyone in the clearing looked at him. "Excuse me?" said Mr. Diggory, incredulously. "That is my wand." Ulquiorra repeated. "I dropped it right after we got into the wood."

"So," said Mr. Diggory, his eyes hardening as he turned to look at Winky again, cowering at his feet. "You found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squealed Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is… I is… I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"She is right." Ulquiorra said mildly. "The voice who used the incantation was much to low."

"Definitely human." Ron agreed, while Hermione nodded feverishly.

* * *

"Deletrius!" Mr. Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke. "So," said Mr. Diggory with a kind of wild triumph, looking down upon Winky, who was still shaking. "I is not doing it!" she squealed, "I is a good elf, I isn't using wands, I isn't knowing how!"

"You've been caught red-handed, elf!" Mr. Diggory roared. "Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"

"Amos," said Mr. Weasley loudly, "think about it… precious few wizards know how to do that spell… Where would she have learned it?"

"Perhaps Amos is suggesting," said Mr. Crouch, cold anger in every syllable, "that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?" **_Ouch. _**Amos Diggory looked horrified. "Mr. Crouch… not… not at all."

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark!" barked Mr. Crouch. "Harry Potter – and myself. I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?"

"Of course - everyone knows -" muttered Mr. Diggory, looking highly discomforted. "And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging again. "Mr. Crouch, I - I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Amos Diggory muttered again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard. "If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" shouted Mr. Crouch. "Where else would she have learned to conjure it?"

"She - she might've picked it up anywhere -"

"Precisely, Amos," said Mr. Weasley. "She might have picked it up anywhere… Winky?" he said kindly, turning to the elf, but she flinched as though he too was shouting at her. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?" Winky, twisting the hem of her tea towel violently, whispered,"I - I is finding it… finding it there, sir…there… in the trees, sir."

"You see, Amos?" said Mr. Weasley. "Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up."

"But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!" said Mr. Diggory impatiently. "Elf? Did you see anyone?" Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flickered from Mr. Diggory, to Ludo Bagman, and onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir… no one…" Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. _Suspicious._ "Amos," said Mr. Crouch curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her." Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn't think much of this suggestion at all, but it was clear to Ulquiorra that Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the Ministry that he did not dare refuse him. _Ah, the government system. Never fails to corrupt._ "You may rest assured that she will be punished," Mr. Crouch added coldly. "M-m-master…" Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please…" Mr. Crouch stared back, and there was no pity in his gaze.

"This means clothes." Ulquiorra and Murciélago winced. _**...Harsh.**_

_Indeed._

* * *

"What is that supposed to be?" Ron was holding up something that looked to Ulquiorra like a long, maroon velvet dress. It had a moldy-looking lace frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs. Ulquiorra smirked. "Why Ron, I never knew you were into that kind of thing..."

"Why you-!" There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley entered, carrying an armful of freshly laundered Hogwarts robes. "Here you are," she said, sorting them into two piles. "Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress," said Ron, handing it out to her. "Of course I haven't," said Mrs. Weasley. "That's for you. Dress robes."

"What?" said Ron, looking horror-struck and Ulquiorra sympathized.

...Silently, of course.

"Dress robes!" repeated Mrs. Weasley. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year… robes for formal occasions."

"You've got to be kidding," said Ron in disbelief. "I'm not wearing that, no way."

"Everyone wears them, Ron!" said Mrs. Weasley crossly. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!"

"I'll go starkers before I put that on," said Ron stubbornly. "Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Weasley. "You've got to have dress robes, they're on your list! I got some for Harry too… show him, Harry…" In some apprehension, Ulquiorra opened the last parcel on his camp bed. It wasn't as bad as he had expected, however; his dress robes didn't have any lace on them at all, thank god, in fact, they were more or less the same as his school ones, except that they were bottle green instead of black. "I thought they'd bring out the color of your eyes, dear," said Mrs. Weasley fondly, and Ulquiorra smiled slightly. They _would_ look rather nice, he had to admit. "Well, they're okay!" said Ron angrily, looking at Ulquiorra's robes. "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because… well, I had to get yours secondhand, and there wasn't a lot of choice!" said Mrs. Weasley, flushing. Ulquiorra looked away and began to continue packing, pointedly ignoring the conversation. "I'm never wearing them," Ron was saying stubbornly. "Never."

"Fine," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Go naked. And, Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh." She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny spluttering noise from behind them. Pigwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl Treat. "Why is everything I own rubbish?" said Ron furiously, striding across the room to relieve Pigwidgeon of his choking plight.

Ulquiorra didn't answer.

* * *

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." Dumbledore continued with his annual back to school speech, delivering the horrible news. "What?" Ulquiorra growled frostily. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbhedore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -" But at that moment, there was a earsplitting rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall pivoted toward the stranger. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table. A dull clunking noise echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Lightning had thrown the man's face into focus, and it looked as though it had been carved out of wood by someone who had a very terrible idea of what human faces look like. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes was a truly disturbing. One of them was small, dark, and beady but the other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye. The stranger reached Dumbledore and stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied too quietly for anyone to hear. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side. The stranger sat down and pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students. "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

_**Damn. He looks even more screwed up then Ichimaru. **_Murciélago said in awe.

Ulquiorra nodded slightly, starring at the man that looked more like a battered wooden training dummy then a person.

* * *

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year." the students snapped to attention.

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly. The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled humorously. "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar." Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and Ulquiorra raised an amused and bemused eyebrow. "Er - but maybe this is not the time… no…" said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons," Ulquiorra's blood chilled at the mention of Beauxbatons, "and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued. Our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred hissed excitedly. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This," Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several, ahem, a LOT, of people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious, "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

* * *

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione at the beginning of the Care of Magical Creatures lesson. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!" Ulquiorra paled.

_Oh god._

_

* * *

_

BANG! Several people screamed and Ulquiorra felt something white-hot barely scratch the side of his face. He quickly plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he'd even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall. "OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" Ulquiorra spun around, wand ready. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a snow white ferret, which was shivering on the stone floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing. Ulquiorra felt a smug, and slightly evil, smirk pull at his lips.

Genius.

_**That man is my hero.**_ Murciélago thought admiringly.

* * *

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will. The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped and they heard a loud thump. **They all turned and saw a girl on the floor, clutching at her knee, and Ulquiorra recognized her from last year when they faced the boggart in class. She had faced a Ken doll that came to life and had run off screaming. **

**She had apparently been very startled by Moody's yell and bashed her knee very hard against the desk. "Mother of-!"**

Moody, deciding to ignore the swearing student, picked up the demonstrative somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. "Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

* * *

"There's one - the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice. Ulquiorra was surprised that Neville was voluntering, since the only times he did was during his favoirte and best subject; Herbology. Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes. "Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again. Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless. Pointing his wand at the spider he said, "Engorgio!" The spider swelled, now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning pretending to not be afraid of Moody's demonstrative creatures, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!" At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. Ulquiorra was nauseatingly reminded of how Aizen dealt with disobedience. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently "Stop it!" Hermione shrieked, looking at the shaking and white Neville. Moody lowered his wand, and Ulquiorra sighed softly in relief.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse… That one was very popular once too."

* * *

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered. Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron, and Ulquiorra felt anticipation clench his stomach unmercifully, along with a twinge of horror and recognition. Finally trapping the frantic spider and putting it on the desk, Ulquiorra watched it scuttle around desperately.

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared, and there was a flash of familiar green light and a rushing sound and the spider turned over, dead and seemingly untouched.

Ulquiorra was greatly reminded of his cero. The only difference was this wasn't as violent, as it didn't vaporize your victim like ceros did.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor. "Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me." Ulquiorra, who had been looking at his desk in thought, slowly raised his head and looked into the eccentric eyes of Professor Moody. His thoughts were churning, but it didn't show.

It must have been surprising, to see his face look ice cold and completely uncaring about hearing how his mother and father met their demise.

* * *

The letter was very short, and looked as though it had been scrawled in a great hurry. Ulquiorra read it aloud monotonously:

_Harry_

_I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is. I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry. _

_Sirius _

"He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "He's coming back?" Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes in practically unnoticable anger.

"Fool." He murmured, before storming off to bed.

* * *

Ulquiorra's face deadpanned. He didn't actually _say_ anything, for his face said it all. Professor Moody was going to use the Imperious Curse on them, to give them a feel and hopefully prepare them to resist it. He had already cast it on several students; Dean had hopped around the classroom three times singing the national anthem, Lavender had imitated a squirrel, which Ulquiorra admitted, was rather funny, and Neville had preformed an impossible display of gymnastics. It was Ulquiorra's turn.

This would end up with him doing something ridiculously stupid, or him ending up in great pain.

* * *

It turns out, he ended up doing something completely stupid.

Oh, he resisted the Curse. ...Loosely speaking.

Well, to be more accurate, _Murciélago _was not affected by the curse, since it was directed at Ulquiorra and NOT the sword spirit inside his head. So while Ulquiorra was in Imperious la la land, she had to simultaneously snap him out of it _and _show that there was no way in hell that Ulquiorra was jumping on the damn desk.

And Murciélago wasn't the most..._subtle_ or stoic person in the world.

So, you can imagine everyone's surprise when Ulquiorra suddenly stood up, leaned his weight on his right hip, placed one hand on said hip and said, in a voice and body motion (including his fingers snapping in a Z formation) that greatly resembled the 'Oh no you _didn't_' and said, "Oh, _**Hell **_no, bitch!"

Luckily, Ulquiorra didn't remember this at all.

Unluckily, Ron did. And laughed about it for about 2 hours afterward.

* * *

_Harry. _

_I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar. _

_Sirius _

Ulquiorra sighed. _At least he hasn't been caught._

Murciélago hummed in agreement, which Ulquiorra pointedly ignored. He was still mad about the DADA incident.

Thank god that the foreigners would be arriving today, and the excitement and gossip focused on that killed the gossip focusing on Ulquiorra.

* * *

Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions. "There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest. "It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely and Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid… it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey. Dennis's guess was closer… As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, which was the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, each the size of an elephant. The carriage landed, bouncing before coming to a halt, the giant golden horses tossing their heads and their ruby eyes flashed.

...They were a little creepy.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully and Ulquiorra remembered something important.

Boys were accepted at this school.

Grimmjow. French. Magic.

Ulquiorra mentally combined those all together.

..._CRAP._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra stared at the largest woman he had ever seen emerge from the carriage. There had only been one person he had ever seen that size, and that was Hagrid. She had olive skin, liquid large black eyes, and shinning black hair. She was dressed completely in black satin with many opals on her throat and fingers. Applause gradually worked its way through the crowd of students and teachers and her face relaxed into a gracious smile. "My dear Madame Maxime," Dumbledore said smiling. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dort," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore. "My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her. Ulquiorra, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering since their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. Ulquiorra inwardly snorted. _Fools. They should have researched Hogwarts to ensure not freezing to death. _Ulquiorra also noticed that they were staring at the school apprehensively and he felt a twinge of annoyance. He felt even nettled more when he felt Murciélago perk up and squeal, _**I sense Pantera! Eeeeee!**_

_Why, dammit, **why?**_ Ulquiorra thought in anguish, pointedly staring away from a tall, muscular, blonde male at the back, who was the only student not shivering and looking actually interested.

* * *

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks... and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared and what seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool…

"It is a mast." Ulquiorra said, interested. "They have arrived by ship."

* * *

People were disembarking from the glorious ship, and Ulquiorra noted they had large builds, but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair. "Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, oily voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee, finishing in a small curl, did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own. "Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Ulquiorra noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd, much like Aizen's. He certainly did NOT notice the tall Beauxbatons male student, that stared at Karkaroff with dislike radiating from his being. "How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…" A student with a particularly curved nose and thick eyebrows passed them and Ron grabbed his arm eagerly. "Harry, it's him!" Ulquiorra gave a small nod, thoughts whirling.

_Another interesting development._

"It's Viktor Krum!"

* * *

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire." Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket that Filch had brought in after they had finished the feast. The lid creaked slowly open and Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly cut wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall. "Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."

* * *

The goblet's blinding blue white flame became scarlet, and sparks flew erratically from the flames. A shot of fire shot out along with a charred piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught the parchment and held it at arms length so he could read it in the light of the flames, which had resumed it's blue white color. The entire hall tensed in anticipation.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

* * *

Everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames. "The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!" A girl who resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Ulquiorra stared at two girls from Beauxbatons who did not become champion cry into each others shoulders.

_**That's overreacting.**_

_Indeed._

_**You're talking to me again! :D**_

_Do not push your luck._

_

* * *

_

The goblet turn red once again, the final tongue of flame shooting out, bringing a charred parchment along with it.

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore announced, "is Cedric Diggory!"

* * *

Everyone stared as the goblet's flames blazed scarlet for a fourth time, and another tongue of flame shot out along with a piece of parchment. Automatically, Dumbledore reached out and caught the small piece and stared at it for a long time, the clearly read aloud;

"Harry Potter."

* * *

Ulquiorra stared, and felt hundreds of eyes on him, as he sat frozen. "Impossible." He murmured turning to Ron and Hermione. "I did not put my name in...you know I did not." They merely stared back at him, bewildered. The buzzing of hundreds of students talking ran through the Great Hall and Ulquiorra dimly noticed that McGonagall was whispering urgently to Dumbledore at the front. Everyone was looking at him, and he felt vulnerable and naked. The entire Gyriffindor table was staring at him openmouthed. "Harry Potter!" Dumbled called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Ulquiorra a slight push. Ulquiorra stood up and slid his hands into his pockets protectively. He walked through the aisle between Gyriffindor and Hufflepuff, feeling oddly small, and straightened as much as possible and wiped his face clean, looking much more like Ulquiorra Schiffer the Espada then Ulquiorra Sciffer the wizard then he had in a long time. The walk seemed to last longer then possible, and he finally reached Dumbledore. "Well… through the door, Harry." Ulquiorra made his way around the teachers table, but looked back at the crowd one last time.

His emerald eyes met with a pair of sapphire steel. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. Ulquiorra inclined his head slightly, and entered the room as Hogwart's second champion.

* * *

"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. "E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl. A tense silence filled the room like a rapidly rising and heavy smoke. Ulquiorra's shoulders tensed.

Voldemort.

...Of course.

* * *

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests." Mr. Crouch told the confused and wary champions curtly, then he straightend, said some goodbyes and swept from the room. The Champions and their Headmasters quickly dispersed, still frustrated and angry of the odd little X factor that we call Ulquiorra.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Ulquiorra said curiously and irritably, though the irritation might have been because Lee Jordan really knew how to tie knots, and Ulquiorra was struggling to remove the banner that he had insistently put on his shoulders like a cloak.

"Oh hello," said Ron. He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin. Ulquiorra noted that it fake, and rather mask like. Ron lay on the bed without moving, watching Ulquiorra struggle to remove the obnoxious banner on his shoulders. Finally doing so, Ulquiorra let out a short breath of air and tossed it aside. "So," Ron said, voice painfully light and cheery "Congratulations." Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean, congratulations?"

"Well… no one else got across the Age Line," said Ron. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use - the Invisibility Cloak?"

"The Invisibility Cloak would not have got me over that line," said Ulquiorra slowly, anger beginning to seep in. "Oh right," said Ron. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak… because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"

"Listen," said Ulquiorra, "I did not put my name in that goblet. Someone else must have done it." Ron raised his eyebrows. "What would they do that for?"

"Why would I know?" said Ulquiorra quietly. He felt it would not be a good idea at the moment to say, "To kill me." Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair. "It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth," he said. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either…"

"I did not put my name in that goblet." said Ulquiorra coldly, fury making his hands clench. "Yeah, okay," said Ron sceptically, his face rapidly morphing into a scowl. "You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something." He wrenched the hangings shut around his four-poster and Ulquiorra stood there cold disbelief and anger spreading through his veins as he watched his first friend drown in foolish envy.

* * *

Ulquiorra sighed as Hedwig pointedly ignored him after sending the school owl with his letter to Sirius. He turned to Hermione, grateful that she was helping him and sticking by his story. "I think I want to be alone for awhile." He told her and she nodded, understanding, and exited the Owlrey. After a couple more minutes of trying to get Hedwig to forgive him, he gave up and left. Walking out to the grounds and to the lake, he spotted the one he had been looking for, and he spotted Ulquiorra as well. Walking up and leaning against the tree that he was currently sitting in, Ulquiorra looked out to the lake.

"...So, what the fuck happened last night?" Grimmjow asked curiously, laying quite lazily on a strong branch. Ulquiorra sighed. "Do you know my histroy with Vold-"

"-emort. Duh." Grimmjow snorted. "Who fucking doesn't?" Ulquiorra smirked. "Touche."

There was a pleasant silence. "I still hate you." Grimmjow added quickly, the atmosphere too friendly for his liking. Ulquiorra remained silent, and the atmosphere pleasant. "Emo ass clown." Ulquiorra scowled, and the air became tense. _Ah, much better._ Grimmjow thought, getting back into familiar territory. "I believe this is a plan of Voldemort's to get me killed. Again." Ulquiorra continued and Grimmjow stared. "How many times has the guy tried to kill you?"

"Three times." Grimmjow whistled. "Damn. Sucks to be you."

"Indeed." They watched the smooth waters of the lake. Ulquiorra tilted his head upwards. "Did you die?" Grimmjow nodded. "Yup. You?"

"Yes."

"And we're were both reincarnated as wizards."

"Yes."

"...Do you think the universe is trying to tell us something?"

"I hope not."

* * *

Ulquiorra, was having a terrible week. Of course, he could understand why the Hufflepuffs didn't like him, and the Slytherins were just annoying bastards, but Ulquiorra hoped that at least the Ravenclaws were assume neutrality. But of course, they thought he was desperate for fame, so they hated him too. Swell.

Ulquiorra was grateful that Hermione stuck by him through all the shit he was going through. And even more surprisingly...

...he was grateful for Grimmjow as well.

_"Well," Grimmjow yawned, jumping down next to Ulquiorra. "this'll be fun." Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" Grimmjow snorted. "I'm gonna help you, dumbass." Moving past Ulquiorra's surprised look, he continued. "You're where all the good action is. I'm not missing out on all the fun." He leaned against the tree, hands behind his head. "You're weird with emotion." He said bluntly and Ulquiorra's surprise faded to irritation. "It's unnatural. 'Course, you're now a little less of a douche," Ulquiorra twitched. "but, still. Weird." Ulquiorra sighed. "What is your human name?" He said, resigned to his fate of once again working with the proud former Sexta. Grimmjow grinned. "Leroy Jaggerjaques." Ulquiorra blinked. "You have the same last name?" He asked curiously. Grimmjow snorted. "Yup. The Jaggerjaques' are high up back home, old french nobility. Used to be part of the family before I became a hollow too."_

_"...You were __**nobility?"**_

_"Don't look so surprised, jackass. I was the trouble child. Why do you think I had such issues with authority?"_

_"Hmmm... ...Leroy?"_

_"Means The King, bastard."_

_"Whatever you say."_

_"Better then Harry."_

_"..."_

Of course, Grimmjow had loyalty to his own school, and often lamented about not being the Champion. "Because I'd be able to kick your ass during the competition!" He said, grinning ruefully at lost opportunity. Hermione was perplexed at their odd alliance (they refused to call it friendship) but rather liked him because he knew a great deal about French history and was (surprisingly) extremely intelligent about certain subjects.

It was just disguised under rash and unorganized behavior, making him appear like a total idiot.

Plus, no female on the planet could resist Grimmjow when he got all French like. 'Cuz it's Grimmjow. Speaking French.

Resistance is futile.

* * *

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament." Ulquiorra saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. "Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room. Fleur Delacour swept gracefully over to Mr. Olhivander and handed him her wand. "Hmm…" he said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully. "Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's." Ulquiorra grew wary. He still remembered the veela's from the Quidditch World Cup. Manipulative creatures.

* * *

"Mr. Diggory, you next." Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her. Ulquiorra inwardly rolled his eyes. How promiscuous. "Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches… ash… pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition…"

Ollivander produced silver smoke rings from Cedric's wand, and Ulquiorra was greatly reminded of the childrens story of Alice and Wonderland. It was the caterpillar that smoked rings from his pipe, if Ulquiorra remembered correctly.

"Mr. Krum, if you please."

* * *

Viktor Krum got up and slouched toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes. "Hmm," said Mr. Olhivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I… however…" He lifted the wand and examined it closely, turning it over and over before his eyes. "Yes… hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he inquired, and Krum nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees… quite rigid… ten and a quarter inches… Avis!" With a loud bang, like a gunshot, several birds shot from the tip of Krum's wand and soared out the window into the thin sunlight.

* * *

"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ohlivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming as he examined Ulquiorra's wand. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember." Ulquiorra did as well, and prayed that it would remained unmentioned. He did not think it would be a good idea for the wizarding world to know that the Boy Who Lived, a stupid title if you asked Ulquiorra, had a wand that was the brother of Voldemort's wand.

Luckily, it was not mentioned and Ollivander proclaimed that it was in perfect condition.

Now it was time for pictures.

...Great.

* * *

_Harry - _

_I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted - we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November? I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose. Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can. _

_Sirius_

Ulquiorra quickly penned his reply.

* * *

It was Saturday, 3 more days until the first task and Ulquiorra and Hermione made their way down to Hogsmeade, Ulquiorra under the Invisibility cloak. Sitting in the Three Broomsticks, drinking a butterbeer, Ulquiorra spotted Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw Seeker talking with her Ravenclaw friends and felt oddly pleased at the absence of the Cedric Diggory badges that had been traveling around the school.

* * *

"All right, Hermione?" said Hagrid loudly as he and Moody approached their table. "Hello," said Hermione, smiling while Moody limped around the table and bent down. Ulquiorra assumed that he was reading the S.P.E.W. notebook, until he muttered, "Nice cloak, Potter." Ulquiorra stared, impressed and Moody grinned. "Your eye -?"

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody said quietly. "And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you." Hagrid was beaming down at Ulquiorra too. Hagrid now bent down on the pretense of reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well, and said in a whisper so low that only Ulquiorra could hear it, "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak." Straightening up, Hagrid said loudly, "Nice ter see yeh, Hermione," winked, and departed and Moody followed him.

* * *

Ulquiorra followed Hagrid and Madame Maxine, teeth gritted in irritation. Why did Hagrid call him out here? He had better things to do then follow Hagrid on his date, Sirius would be at the fire within the hour. However, Ulquiorra's irritation diminished when he heard a roar, and men shouting. Curious, he continued to follow them around a clump of trees and his mouth went dry.

Dragons. Four fully grown fire breathing dragons.

_...Fuck._

_

* * *

_

"… and now Hagrid has just shown me what is coming in the first task. Dragons, Sirius. _Dragons. _I am screwed. " he deadpanned.. Sirius looked at him, eyes full of concern. "Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute - I haven't got long here… I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?" said Ulquiorra, feeling his already dour mood slip. "Karkaroff," said Sirius. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes. He was a Death Eater?"

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year – to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place. He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," said Sirius bitterly. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names… he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place… He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

"All right," said Ulquiorra slowly. "But… are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet?"

"Maybe. Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry…"

"- you and the rest of the world," said Ulquiorra sulkily. "- and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Ulquiorra about to speak, "but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

* * *

"Bertha Jorkins?" said Ulquiorra curiously, now on the topic the missing Ministry witch. "Exactly… she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last… and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yes, but is it likely that she would have walked straight into Voldemort?" questioned Ulquiorra.

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins," said Sirius grimly. "She was at Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Harry. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"So Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?" said Ulquiorra. "Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?"

"I don't know," said Sirius slowly, "I just don't know… Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Not that bad of a plan." Ulquiorra pointed out sourly, "They will just have to stand back and let the dragons do their work."

"Right - these dragons," said Sirius, speaking very quickly now. "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell - dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon but you can do it alone," said Sirius. "There is away, and a simple spell's all you need. Just -" But Ulquiorra held up a hand to silence him, his heart suddenly pounding as though it would burst. He could hear the sounds of bare feet coming down the spiral staircase behind him. "Go!" he hissed at Sirius. "Go! There's someone coming." Ulquiorra stepped in front of the fire and heard Sirius disappear with a small pop. It was Ron, in too small maroon pajamas. Ulquiorra fumed, angry words exchanged, and he ended up hurling one of Creevy's pathetic attempts of Potter Badges at Ron's forehead. "There." Ulquiorra said rigidly, stalking past him. "Something for you to wear on Tuesday. Perhaps it will scar. That is what you want, right?"

* * *

Grimmjow, Hermione and Ulquiorra all sat in the library, reading up on dragons. "Gah!" Grimmjow screamed quietly in frustration. "I hate studying. You said someone told you it's a simple spell?" Ulquiorra nodded, not taking his eyes off the book he was reading. "Then let's try some simple spell books." Hermione said, tossing aside a book carelessly.

They kept searching and leafing through various books to no avail. Finally, they left after Krum had entered, unaware that he had also brought his fanclub. Grimmjow shook his head. "Girls. Not you," he added quickly to Hermione, who glared at him. "you actually have some sense in your head." Hermione stopped glaring, and looked rather pleased. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. They stopped outside the girls bathroom and waited for Hermione to return. Grimmjow leaned against the wall. "You know, if you were still that dragon bat thingy, life would be _so _much easier." Ulquiorra's head snapped to Grimmjow, and Grimmjow blinked.

"...What?"

* * *

"Hi," said Cedric, picking up a copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration that was now splattered with ink. "My bag just split… brand-new and all…" _I know. I tore it. _"The first task is dragons."

"What?" said Cedric, looking up startled. Ulquiorra wasn't the type to beat around the bush. "Dragons," said Ulquiorra quickly and quietly. "They have four, one for each of us, and we've got to get past them." Cedric stared at him and Ulquiorra saw some of the panic he'd been feeling since Saturday night flickering in Cedric's gray eyes. "Are you sure?" Cedric said in a hushed voice.

"Quite," said Ulquiorra curtly. "I have seen them."

"But how did you find out? We're not supposed to know…"

"Not important," said Ulquiorra dismissively, not wanting to get Hagrid in trouble. "But I am not the only one who knows. Fleur and Krum will know by now - Maxime and Karkaroff saw the dragons too." Cedric straightened up, his arms full of inky quills, parchment, and books, his ripped bag dangling off one shoulder. He stared at Ulquiorra, and there was a puzzled, almost suspicious look in his eyes. "Why are you telling me?" he asked.

"It would not be fair if I did not. We are all even now, would you not agree?"

* * *

It was Tuesday, the day of the first task. Hermione was pale with nerves, and kept asking Ulquiorra if he sure his plan would work. He told her the vague details, but she was very skeptical, and Ulquiorra could not blame her. What he was going to do would seem highly advanced. _We must make it appear as a spell._ He told Murciélago the previous evening. Murciélago, though hesitant, agreed, eager to fly again, knowing she would not be able for a long time afterward. Ulquiorra had already gone to the trouble of summoning Murciélago's blade and disguising it as his wand. He had stuck it in the belt of his black trousers and was eating lunch as calmly as he could, to soothe Hermione's nerves. Professor McGonagall approached him. "Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now… You have to get ready for your first task." Ulquiorra nodded and rose swiftly, setting his fork down. "Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine!"

"I know." Ulquiorra replied and gave her a reassuring nod. It seemed to have helped, since she smiled back.

* * *

Professor McGonagall looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder, something that surprised Ulquiorra. "Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head… We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand… The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you… Are you all right?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra said fimly. "Yes, I am _fine." _He stressed the word fine, since no one seemed to believe him. She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible. Ulquiorra could see a large tent had been set up, barring him view of the enclosure. "You're to go in here with the other champions," said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there… he'll be telling you the - the procedure… Good luck."

"Thank you, Professor."

* * *

Ulquiorra looked around. Fluer was looking pale and clammy, not at all like her usual conceited and frivolous self, but Ulquiorra knew not to underestimate her. While usually she acted like ditsy trash, she was a Champion, and Grimmjow had informed him while she was physically rather weak, she was a decent witch. Krum looked even surlier then usual and Cedric was pacing the tent nervously. "Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!" Bagman looked rather bright and unreal, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again. "Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" - he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them - "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different – er- models, see. And I have to tell you something else too… ah, yes… your task is to collect the golden egg!" Ulquiorra inclined his head slightly.

* * *

Bagman was opening the neck of a purple silk sack. "Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour. She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon. The Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck, meaning that she would be facing her dragon second. For Krum it was the scarlet Chinese Fireball and it had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground. Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short - Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Ulquiorra put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. Of course he was last and got the most dangerous of the lot.

As usual.

* * *

**RON POV**

* * *

I'm a jerk.

A total ass. It's just...everything happens to Harry, and I get pushed to side over and over and...I was just sick of it. On Saturday, Harry really put me in my place. He must be really stressed to actually retaliate with violence. He never throws a punch, never fights unless he needs to. It was time for the first task and I sought out Hermione, who was white in the face and muttering to herself.. "'Mione!" I called and caught up to her, and she whirled around, eyes wild with worry before relaxing slightly. "Oh, Ron. Hello." She said in a oddly high pitched voice. I raised a eyebrow. "C'mon Hermione," I said lightly, trying to ease her mood. "he won't have to face anything too dangerous, right?" Hermione looked livid. "You idiot!" She shrieked, pounding weak fists on my chest. "It's dragons!" She continued, shrilly and it was as if my heart lept into my throat.

"What?"

"Harry has to face a dragon for the first task!"

* * *

**UlQUIORRA POV**

* * *

Minutes passed. Ulquiorra could hear the screams of the crowd and roaring that could only come from the dragons. Ulquiorra sighed.

_**Ready to kick some ass? **_Murciélago eagerly as Ulquiorra's name was called. Ulquiorra smirked since there was no one around.

_Do you need to ask?_

Ulquiorra sauntered through the flap, one hand in his pocket, the other on his wand (sword).

* * *

**RON POV**

* * *

Ron stared as each Champion succeeded (sometimes barely) in retrieving the Golden Egg. Cedric had gotten burned badly, the Fluer girl, the one that looked like a veela, had her skirt catch fire, and Krum was unscathed but had some of the real eggs damaged. Hermione was shaking. Ron's fist's were clenched and white.

"OI! MOVE!" He whirled to see a tall student push through the crowd towards them. He was very tall, around 6 feet, and tan. His messy blonde hair was styled so that a good portion stayed in one general direction, but some of it stayed at the nape of his neck. Three strands remained in his face in front of his eyes. His startling blue eyes were enunciated subtly by the green markings below them. He was also very muscular, and was dressed stylishly in a black zip up sweatshirt, the sleeves rolled up and the jacket itself unzipped. He was attracting a lot of positive female attention due to the fact that he was not wearing anything under the jacket, showing his well built chest and abdomen. Dark navy jeans hung low on his hips and he wore black boots.

In other words, though not Ron's, _definitely _not Ron's; he was smoking hot.

"Yo." He spoke in a suave, rough, masculine voice that made all the girls sigh. Ron was confused. Why was this guy here? They didn't know him-

"He'll be fine." He was talking to Hermione. He smirked and Ron stared incredulously as one girl behind him actually _fainted_ from the sheer sexiness. "He doesn't die easily." Hemione pursed her lips worriedly. "Yes, of course." She murmured. "But Leroy-" Ron gaped. How did they know each other. Something unpleasant and hot bubbled at his stomach. "-it's a dragon!" 'Leroy' grunted. "Eh. Bastard's faced Voldemort three times and lived, right? Fucker'll be fine."

"Oh, Ron." Hermione said distracted, finally remembering he was there. "This is Leroy Jaggerjaques. He's a Beauxbatons student." Leroy glanced in his direction. "Bonjour." Ron blinked.

"Uh, Hi."

* * *

Ulquiorra stared into the poisonous yellow eyes of the Hungarian Horntail as it growled at him, wings furled around the eggs protectively.

_**Hey sister! What's up?**_

_...You are a bat._

_**We're close enough, Ulquiorra. Don't deny it.**_

Choosing not to reply, he raised his weapon. _Ready?_

_**Always.**_

"T_ozase_."

* * *

Green light flared from his 'wand' and he felt the change occur. The familiar weight of his helmet, and his great black demon wings protruded from his shoulders. His nails became black and lengthed, and his hair grew a few inches, brushing his neck. The light died away, and ignoring the excited and frantic screams of his classmates and teachers, he spread his wings and took to the sky. He shot towards the dragon, who roared at him threateningly. Despite a more similar appearance, the Horntail still saw him as a threat. She stretched her neck and lunged at him, which he dodged, spinning gracefully sideways and with a beat of his great wings, flew high above and began circling the dragons head. She shot fire at him with deadly accuracy, but he slammed it aside with powerful left wing. Hearing the sound of something moving, Ulquiorra dove to the left, but could not completely dodge the dragon's tail as it nicked his calf. He continued to taunt the enraged beast by circling it's head, occasionally diving towards it's head teasingly, and then veering back up towards the sky. He easily spotted the golden egg some time ago, but he needed her to unfurl her wings. He lifted himself higher, and flew back and forth, left to right hypnotically until...she bared her teeth angrily and spread her wings.

Ulquiorra dove down with impossible speed, nothing more then a black blur, and grabbed the golden egg in his hands and with a beat of his wings, zoomed off. He flew over the stands, circling it, tuning in and finally allowing himself to hear the wild noise the crowd was making. "NOT BAD BASTARD!" He heard the distinctive voice of Grimmjow roar over the loud cheering and he heard Hermione shrieks of delight. "Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

* * *

He folded his wings as he entered the tent that Madam Pomfrey was using as a medical ward. Bustling around, she muttered to herself about dragons and dementors, searching for a potion. He noticed the tent was divided into cubicles and that Cedric was well enough to be sitting up. She dabbed his calf with some purple liquid, which stung, and tapped it with her wand, and it began to instantly heal. "Now, just sit quietly for a minute - sit! And then you can go and get your score." She moved to the next cubicle to tend to Cedric and Ulquiorra closed his eyes. The wings vanished, the helmet disappeared, his hair and returned to it's normal length and he clutched his 'wand' in his hand. The tent flap opened and Hermione and Ron burst in, followed by a relaxed Grimmjow trailing behind. "Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. "You were amazing! You really were! That was extremely advanced magic!" Grimmjow snorted silently and Ulquiorra glared at him. He turned his attention to Ron, who was very white. "Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet - I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!" Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes, and Grimmjow figeted, obviously uncomfortable being in the same room while they were fixing their issues. "Finally caught on?" Ulquiorra questioned coolly. "It certainly took you long enough." Ron opened his mouth, and Ulquiorra sighed. "Forget it." He relented, not really in the mood to continue fighting over something this stupid.

It was something that Grimmjow would do.

"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've -"

"Forget it." Ulquiorra repeated. Ron grinned nervously at him, and Ulquiorra nodded back.

Hermione started crying.

The three guys watched as she ran out of the tent bawling. "Barking mad," said Ron, shaking his head. "Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores…" Ulquiorra followed Ron but stopped for a moment when Grimmjow grabbed his elbow. "I was talking to Pantera during your soap opera," he hissed, fear evident in his eyes, "when he said, and I quote, 'Damn, that Murciélago is so fuckin' hot.'" Ulquiorra shuddered and advised, "Just ignore it and pretend it never happened." Grimmjow blinked. "Really?"

"It is was I do." Grimmjow looked vaguely ill.

"What you-? ...Oh dear god."

* * *

8, 9, 9, 10, and 4. That was Ulquiorra's score and he was tied first place with Krum. Ulquiorra stared at the Golden Egg. Apparently it was their next clue. Ulquiorra stared a the hinges showing a small opening that was currently closed on the egg. _Curious._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra watched as the diminutive owl carried his long and thick letter to Sirius. "Better head down to your surprise party. Fred and George shoud've nicked enough food by now."

* * *

Lee passed Ulquiorra the egg, and Ulquiorra, rather curious, dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and pried it open. It was hollow and completely empty - but the moment Ulquiorra opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. "Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

"What was that?" said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Ulquiorra slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee… Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing… maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower. Harry." Ulquiorra snorted and bit into a treacle tart. He was rather fond of them.

* * *

He had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward him from the middle of the room, squealing, "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!" Next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would break. "Dobby?" Ulquiorra gasped, wishing he could breathe. "It is Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed the voice from somewhere around his navel. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!" Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Ulquiorra, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness. Ulquiorra stared at Dobby. He was dressed very oddly. His outfit consisted of a tea cozy for a hat, a tie patterned with horse hooves, children's soccer shorts, and mismatched socks.

It turned out that Dobby and Mr. Crouch's old elf, Winky, were working at Hogwarts. Dobby was delighted. Winky...not so much. She asked about Mr. Crouch desperately once she learned that the Trio had seen him at Hogwarts.

"Yes," said Hermione, "he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament."

"Mr. Bagman comes too?" squeaked Winky, and to their surprise, she looked angry again. "Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!"

"Bagman - bad?" said Ulquiorra skeptically. Sure Bagman was obnoxious to the point where Ulquiorra occasionally felt like stabbing him, but bad...?

Unfortunately, they couldn't get another word out of Winky, only sobs and wails.

* * *

"The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -" Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Ulquiorra, and Professor McGonagall ignored them. "Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall." Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class. "I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way." The bell rang, and the was a scuffling sound as papers were crammed into bags and the students hustled to freedom.

* * *

Ulquiorra stood in front of Professor McGonagall, who waited until the rest of the class had gone, and then said, "Potter, the champions and their partners -"

"Partners?" said Ulquiorra. Profesor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny. "Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners." Ulquiorra froze.

Dancing. Ulquiorra could dance. In fact, Aizen often asked for Ulquiorra to dance with the various female Espada as entertainment. He was very good at Spanish dances like the tango. But still. Ulquiorra definitely did NOT want to dance at this party. As McGonagall dismissied him from the classroom, Ulquiorra despaired.

* * *

"Got any idea who you're going to try?" Ron asked on the topic of asking someone to the Yule Ball. Ulquiorra remained silent. Cho Chang was definitely beautiful, he admitted. Not necessarily his type (redhead with warm smiles and laughing eyes and curvaceous figures) but she inspired a warm feeling of lust and attraction. However, she was a year older then him, and very popular.

* * *

"Cho? Could I have a word with you?" The girls around Cho started giggling. She did not participate, though. She merely said, "Okay," and followed him out of earshot other classmates. Ulquiorra turned to look at her coolly and his stomach gave a weird lurch as though he had missed a step going downstairs. Could he really ask such a ridiculous question? Cho stood there looking puzzled, watching him. "Do you want to go to the ball with me?" Ulquiorra asked calmly, though he could feel his cheeks tint. "Oh!" said Cho, and she went red. "Oh Harry, I'm really sorry," and she truly looked it. "I've already said I'll go with someone else." _Ah. So this is what rejection feels like. _Never have been truly rejected by the woman, he did not realize it felt so awful. It was a feeling that he could live without. "Alright." Ulquiorra said smoothly, feeling rather cold. Cho looked really embarrassed. "I'm really sorry," she said again. "It is fine." said Ulquiorra. "Well, 'bye," said Cho, still very red. She walked away. His mouthing moving without his permission, he asked. "Who are you going with?"

"Oh - Cedric," she said. "Cedric Diggory."

* * *

Ulquiorra didn't care anymore. He really didn't. So he approached Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown in the common room. "Parvati? Will you go to the ball with me?" He asked in a no nonsense voice, cool and collected. She giggled. "Yes, all right then," she said finally, blushing furiously. Ulquiorra nodded thankfully. "Lavender - will you go with Ron?"

"She's going with Seamus," said Parvati, and the pair of them giggled harder than ever. "Can you think of anyone who would go with Ron?" he said, lowering his voice so that Ron wouldn't hear. "What about Hermione Granger?" said Parvati.

"She is going with someone else." Parvati looked astonished.

"Ooooh - who?" she said keenly. "No idea," he said. "So what about Ron?"

"Well…" said Parvati slowly, "I suppose my sister might… Padma, you know… in Ravenclaw. I'll ask her if you like."

"I would appreciate that."

* * *

It was Christmas Morning, and Ulquiorra received a book on Quidditch teams, a box of assorted sweets, a magical penknife, dungbombs, and the usual Weasely sweater (green with a dragon) and homemade mince pies, and a pair of mismatched socks from Dobby, which he wore, since Dobby gave them to him in person.

Oh. The Muggles gave him a tissue.

...Lovely.

* * *

Ulquiorra met Pavarti at the bottom of the boys dorm. She was dressed in robes of shocking pink, her dark hair plaited, and wearing gold braclets. Ulquiorra gave a short bow, something he would always do back in Las Noches, now it was a bit of a reflex, and said simply, "You look lovely." It was always a good idea to compliment your date, Ulquiorra had noticed this from casual observation. She blushed. "Thanks. Padma's going to meet you in the entrance hall," she added to Ron. "Right," said Ron, looking around. "Where's Hermione?" Parvati shrugged. "Shall we go down then, Harry?" Ulquiorra nodded, and offered his arm politely, which she took.

* * *

"Hi," said Padma Patil, who was looking just as pretty as Parvati in robes of bright turquoise. She didn't look too enthusiastic about having Ron as a partner, though; her dark eyes lingered on the frayed neck and sleeves of his dress robes as she looked him up and down. "Hi." Said Ron, not looking at her, but searching the crowd. "Oh no..."

He ducked down slightly and out of sight as Fluer Delacor passed by. Ron had attempted to ask her to the Yule Ball in a moment of sheer insanity, since he asked her by yelling it across the Great Hall. She looked beautiful and unreal in robes of silver satin and accompanied by...

Grimmjow. Of course. Grimmjow looked over his shoulder, smirked at Ulquiorra and gave him the finger. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes, and Pavarti, Padma, and Ron looked alarmed. "Did he just-?" Ron asked outraged on Ulquiorra's behalf. Ulquiorra sighed. "It does not matter. It is just his way of saying hello to me."

"Saying hello-!"

"Either that or the usual, 'What's up, bastard?'"

* * *

Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!" Parvati readjusted her bangles, beaming. Ulquiorra nodded to Padma and Ron, and Pavarti said, "See you in a minute." Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim other hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. Fleur Delacour and Grimmjow stood nearest the doors, all proud, blond and french. Grimmjow smirked sharkishly at Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. Cedric and Cho were close to Ulquiorra too but he looked away from them so he wouldn't have to talk to them. Cho looked beautiful, and his stomach felt warm tinges of lust. His eyes fell instead on the girl next to Krum and his jaw nearly dropped.

It was Hermione.

_Hermione._

...Did Ulquiorra mention it was _Hermione?_

Her hair was sleek and shiny (Hermione!) and tied in a knot at the back of her head. She was in robes of floaty periwinkle material and her posture seemed straighter, more refined. Perhaps it was because she wasn't lugging around about 10 heavy volumes like normal. She was smiling nervously, and her recently restored to normal sized teeth were more noticeable then ever. "Hi Harry! Hi Pavarti!" She said waving a bit. Ulquiorra nodded. "Hello Hermione. You look nice." It wasn't a lie and she beamed. Ulquiorra saw Grimmjow's face bloom with surprise. _Hermione? _He mouthed to Ulquiorra when Fleur wasn't looking, nodding his head to the girl. Ulquiorra nodded. Grimmjow looked a little impressed with such a drastic and positive change.

He wasn't the only one. Pavarti stared at her with disbelief, the Viktor Krum fanclub glared at her with deep, deep loathing, Pansy-what's her face, the one clinging to Malfoy, gaped, and Malfoy couldn't even shoot an insult he was so shocked.

Ron walked by without sparring her a single glance. Grimmjow and Ulquiorra met each others eyes, Ulquiorra groaned silently and Grimmjow snickered.

_Great. **Another **development._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra, sitting next to Grimmjow in some bizarre twist of events, watched as Fluer and Pavarti struck up a conversation about what sounded like hair products. He looked back to Grimmjow, dressed in robes of pantone cerulean, looked back at him. "Do you have any idea what they are talking about?" Ulquiorra asked and Grimmjow shook his head. "Not at all." They then turned their attention to Hermione and Krum. Ulquiorra had never really heard the guy talk before, but he sure was now.

"Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," he was telling Hermione. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -"

"This is weird." Grimmjow muttered to Ulquiorra as Karkaroff suddenly cut Krum off and started a amusing conversation with Dumbledore. Ulquiorra nodded, also a little freaked out, for lack of a better term, at the strange turn of events. He then tuned to Dumbledore's musings.

"- found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder." Grimmjow burst out laughing, loud roaring laughter that seemed to affect everyone else at the table, since they all began chuckling or giggling with him. He clutched his sides in mirth, much to the disapproval of his date. "Man, I love this place." He choked through laughter.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily and Ulquiorra saw him wink at them, for Ulquiorra had snorted into his plate of goulash in amusement as well.

* * *

It wasn't so bad, Ulquiorra thought as he and Pavarti twirled on the dance floor gracefully. Pavarti was having a nice time, she was obviously pleasantly surprised to discover he could dance. He led her swiftly and fluidly in a slow waltz, spinning her out and back in, to her flushed happiness. Others joined him and the Champions on the dance floor, as he could see Ginny (poor girl) wince as Neville accidentally stepped on her feet. The song ended, and applause filled the Hall. Ulquiorra made to release Pavarti but the Weird Sisters, the wizard band hired, started up a new song.

"This is a really good one!" Pavarti said, eyes shinning, and Ulquiorra, catching on, led her in another dance. One more dance wouldn't kill him.

* * *

Several more dances later, Ulquiorra led Pavarti to Ron and Padma who were sitting at a table and hadn't dance yet. "How are you?" Ulquiorra asked Ron, getting drinks for himself and Pavarti (If he was forced to have a date, he was going to do a good job about it, dammit). Ron didn't answer, merely glared at Hermione and Krum, who were still dancing. Padma was sulking, her foot moving to the music. Minutes later, and Beauxbatons boy asked Pavarti to dance. "You don't mind do you Harry?" she asked and Ulquiorra shook his head, and distractedly murmured, "Have fun" staring at Cho and Cedric. She smiled and left with the Beauxbatons student and did not return, enjoying herself too much to, not that Ulquiorra cared. Hermione plopped down in her vacant seat, pink in the face. Ulquiorra set his face to impassive neutrality.

This would not end well.

* * *

Hermione stared at him, then at Ulquiorra, who sent her a look that clearly said, 'Leave me out of this'. "Ron, what -?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You - you're -" Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, and Ulquiorra debated if this impending spat was worth going to find Pavarti and hopefully escape. He was about to, but Ron started speaking again, and Ulquiorra was trapped. "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!" Hermione's mouth fell open. "Don't be so stupid!" she said after a moment. "The enemy! Honestly - who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?" Ron chose to ignore this. "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened - trying to get him to join spew, were you?"

"No, I wasn't! If you really want to know, he - he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!" Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so deeply that she was the same color as Parvati's robes. "Yeah, well - that's his story," said Ron nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with… He's just trying to get closer to Harry - get inside information on him - or get near enough to jinx him -" Hermione stared at Ron, face hurt and shaking with anger. Her voice quivered when she spoke, and Ulquiorra wished he had the invisibility cloak so he could get the hell out of there. "For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not one -"

Ron changed tack at the speed of light. "Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions -"

I'd never help him work out that egg!" said Hermione, looking outraged. "Never. How could you say something like that - I want Harry to win the tournament. Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?"

Ulquiorra was about to inject that he was not going to get involved, when Ron (thankfully) cut him off."You've got a funny way of showing it," sneered Ron. "This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" said Hermione hotly.

"No it isn't!" shouted Ron. "It's about winning!" People were starting to stare at them.

"Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are," said Ron. "Don't call him Vicky!" Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Ron watched her go with a mixture of anger and satisfaction on his face. "Are you going to ask me to dance at all?" Padma asked him. "No," said Ron, still glaring after Hermione. "Fine," snapped Padma, and she got up and went to join Parvati and the Beauxbatons boy, who conjured up one of his friends to join them so fast that he could've summoned him with Accio.

"Vare is Herm-own-ninny?" said a voice. Krum had just arrived at their table clutching two butterbeers. "No idea," said Ron stubbornly, looking up at him. "Lost her, have you?" Krum was looking surly again. Ulquiorra sighed, cursing the universe.

* * *

Ron and Ulquiorra, who had stepped outside to escape Percy, found themselves surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. Ulquiorra could easily hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. He and Ron set off along one of the winding paths through the rosebushes, but they had gone only a short way when they heard an unpleasantly familiar voice. "… don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroffs voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it _"

"Then flee," said Snapes voice curtly. "Flee - I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts." Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner. Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most irritated. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her. "And what are you two doing?" he added, catching sight of Ulquiorra and Ron on the path ahead. Karkaroff, Ulquiorra saw, looked slightly disconcerted to see them standing there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger. "We're walking," Ron told Snape shortly. "Not against the law, is it?"

"Keep walking, then!" Snape snarled, and he brushed past them, his long black cloak billowing out behind him. Karkaroff hurried away after Snape. Our two fourth year protagonists continued down the path. "What's got Karkaroff all worried?" Ron muttered. They had reached a large stone reindeer now, over which they could see the sparkling jets of a tall fountain. The shadowy outlines of two enormous people were visible on a stone bench, watching the water in the moonlight. And then Ulquiorra heard Hagrid speak. "Momen' I saw yeh, I knew," he was saying, in an oddly husky voice. Ulquiorra and Ron froze. This didn't sound like the sort of scene they ought to walk in on, somehow… Ulquiorra looked around, back up the path, and saw Fleur Delacour and Grimmjow extremely involved in a rosebush. He face palmed, but tapped Ron on the shoulder and jerked his head towards the pair. They could easily sneak past them, but Ron looking horrified at the sight of Fluer, shook his head and pulled Ulquiorra deep into the shadows of a large reindeer statue. Ulquiorra sighed, and tried to focus on the beetle on the statue instead of the conversation.

"What did you know, 'Agrid?" said Madame Maxime, a purr in her low voice. Ulquiorra twitched, and cursed the universe once more.

"I jus' knew… knew you were like me… Was it yer mother or yer father?" "I - I don't know what you mean, 'Agrid…"

"It was my mother," said Hagrid quietly.

_That is a nice beetle_. Ulquiorra thought loudly._ It looks kind of familiar..._

"She was one o' the las' ones in Britain. 'Course, I can' remember her too well… she left, see. When I was abou' three. She wasn' really the maternal sort. Well… it's not in their natures, is it? Dunno what happened to her… might be dead fer all I know…" Against his will, Ulquiorra's interest peaked. He had never heard Hagrid speak of his childhood.

"Me dad was broken-hearted when she wen'. Tiny little bloke, my dad was. By the time I was six I could lift him up an' put him on top o' the dresser if he annoyed me. Used ter make him laugh…" Hagrid's deep voice broke. Madame Maxime was listening, motionless, staring at the silvery fountain. "Dad raised me… but he died, o' course, jus' after I started school. Sorta had ter make me own way after that. Dumbledore was a real help, mind. Very kind ter me, he was…" Hagrid pulled out a large spotted silk handkerchief and blew his nose heavily. "So… anyway… enough abou' me. What about you? Which side you got it on?" But Madame Maxime had suddenly got to her feet. "It is chilly," she said, but the weather was nowhere near as cold as her voice. "I think I will go in now."

"Eh?" said Hagrid blankly. "No, don go! I've - I've never met another one before!"

"Anuzzer what, precisely?" said Madame Maxime, her tone icy.

"Another half-giant, o' course!" said Hagrid and Ulquiorra winced. That was NOT the type of thing you said to a women. At least, according to countless observation it wasn't. "'Ow dare you!" shrieked Madame Maxime. Her voice exploded through the peaceful night air like a horn. Ulquiorra heard Fleur and Grimmjow fall out of their rosebush, surprised by the sudden explosion of noise. "I 'ave nevair been more insulted in my life! 'Alf-giant? Moi? I 'ave - I 'ave big bones!" She stormed away, leaving Hagrid sitting on the bench, staring after her. After about a minute, he stood up and strode away, not back to the castle, but off out into the dark grounds in the direction of his cabin.

* * *

Christmas had ended on a unpleasant note, Ulquiorra supposed, and he was now swamped with homework and the task of deciphering the golden egg. With all the extra work, his mood dropped fantastically at the sight of the news article that Malfoy handed him during Care of Magical Creatures, as the girls and the substitute, Grubby-Plank (another ridiculous wizard name) were fawning over the unicorn.

_DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE _

_Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures. Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates. An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening."_

'_I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got abad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything." Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manticores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions. "I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not - as he has always pretended - a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown. Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror. While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature. In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power - thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend – but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants. _

Ulquiorra turned to Malfoy murder in his cold eyes, which have must terrifying, since Malfoy backed up a few paces. "...'We all hate Hagrid'?" He asked quietly.

_**Let's kill him.**_

Ulquiorra agreed, and was about to draw his wand, but was interrupted by Grubby-Plank.

..._**Let's kill him later.**_

_Agreed._

_

* * *

_

Murciélago was a bit...eccentric. Ulquiorra used the term insane or crazy most of the time. Grimmjow avoided thinking about her and ignored Pantera's occasional lustful comments in order to preserve his sanity.

But one thing they all agreed on. Murciélago, when pissed, was rather scary and a force to be reckoned with.

So, to say Draco Malfoy was 'scared' when she attacked him in his dormitory (including strangling him slightly with her tail, with his feet dangling about 5 feet in the air), would be a underestimate.

For days afterward, he was pale, twitched at sudden movement, and muttered things about demons and flying monsters in the dungeons.

Ulquiorrra was rather proud, though disappointed that he missed out on the action.

Said disappointment died when Murciélago showed him the pictures.

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow sat by the lake, staring at the metal egg. They had both tried numerous charms and spells in attempt to figure the damn thing out, but with no luck. Words were exchanged, with led to insults being exchanged, which led to Grimmjow (who was examining the egg curiously) being kicked into the lake by Ulquiorra. Grimmjow came up after a minute, hissing much like a furious cat, and shaking his head to dislodge water from his ears. After climbing up the bank and out of the cold water, he then shoved the egg into Ulquiorra's hands, punched him in the face, and chucked them both into the lake.

Ulquiorra fell into the cold, dark lake, and could see several fish and other creatures swimming around. The egg had opened from Grimmjow's irritated toss into the water, but shrill wailing didn't come from the egg this time. Instead a chorus of eerie voices sang,

_Come seek us where our voices sound, _

_We cannot sing above the ground, _

_And while you're searching, ponder this: _

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss, _

_An hour long you'll have to look, _

_And to recover what we took, _

_But past an hour- the prospect's black, _

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back_

Ulquiorra's eyes widened, and then breathing became vital, and he shot up back to the surface gasping. He turned, to Grimmjow, who had dried himself off, with wide eyes. Grimmjow smirked.

"So, you a good swimmer, jackass?"

* * *

_Send date of next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl.  
_

It was the shortest letter Ulquiorra had ever received; from Sirius or otherwise. Blinking, Ulquiorra quickly penned his reply and sent the owl off, before turning back to the books he, Ron, Hermione, and Grimmjow were searching through.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared as Ron and Hermione walked with Fred and George to McGonagall's office before turning back to the books. It was the day before the task and he hadn't found a way to breathe underwater for a hour. He was screwed. Grimmjow yawned. "Sorry Ulquiorra." He said, using his real name now that they were alone. "Got to make curfew." He said scowling, and sliding out of his chair. Ulquiorra nodded distractedly as Grimmjow left the library.

* * *

**GRIMMJOW POV**

* * *

Being human was okay. I mean, being a Arrancar was cool, 'cuz you could shoot things like cero, and kicking ass was your job, but being human was alright. Being a wizard was even cooler, 'cuz you could do neat stuff. I mean, you wave a _stick,_ and something explodes. But being human meant feeling shit he _really _didn't want to be feeling. Like guilt. Guilt _sucked._ Especially when he felt guilt concerning Ulquiorra Schiffer. As Grimmjow was walking by the staffroom towards the carriage and musing on the suckage that was guilt, he heard voices. About the task. Casting a Disillusionment Charm (something he was oddly good at) on himself, he peeked through the door to see two Hogwarts teachers talking. The crazy scarred one with the peg leg and the really strict chick that had no sense of humor that was seen with the headmaster.

"...Do you think Potter will think of something?" The strict chick asked, seemingly worried about Ulquiorra's survival.

"Potter's running out of time." The scarred dude grunted. "Should use gillyweed." Grimmjow blinked. That sounded really familiar...he heard of it somewhere...

5th year. Doing a study on aquatic magical plants.

Grimmjow slipped out of the room quietly. Time to do something that went against all natural instinct.

Save Ulquiorra's ass.

Running down the corridors, he crashed into a house elf. The house elf looked rather guilty and Grimmjow realized that he was spying on the two teachers too. Grimmjow continued down the hall to the dungeons, since Ulquiorra mentioned their Potions teacher worked down there, yelling over his shoulder, "On it!" He didn't see the house elf's bow of gratitude, but he did hear the squeaky "Thank You, kind sir!"

Grimmjow snorted. _Kind sir, my ass._

* * *

**ULQUIORRA POV**

**

* * *

**

Ulquiorra had returned to the common room very late with many books but his human body was quickly growing tired and was demanding rest when Murciélago cut through his tired musings.

_**Ulquiorra, Grimmjow needs you to meet him at the tree.**_

Ulquiorra blinked. _Huh?_

_**Pantera said that you need to meet Grimmjow at the tree. **_Blinking, Ulquiorra retrieved his invisibility cloak and steadily made his way out the common room and onto the grounds to the tree near the lake that Grimmjow liked to nap in. Ulquiorra knew it must be important, since Grimmjow liked sleep even more then he did, and wouldn't be awake unless he had to.

Grimmjow was in the trees branches as usual, eyes closed in a peaceful doze, waiting for him. In that pose, Grimmjow almost looked sweet and innocent.

Almost.

Removing the cloak, Ulquiorra hissed, "Grimmjow!" He jolted awake, and blinked. "Huh?" He turned to Ulquiorra. "Oh, Pantera got to you. Good." Dropping down, he shoved a glass jar, quarter way full of what looked like slimy green rat tails into Ulquiorra's hands. Ulquiorra blinked and Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "It's gillyweed, dumbass. Let's you breathe underwater for a hour. Had to do a report on it for detention." Ulquiorra examined it. "How do I use it?" He asked, praying that one didn't use it how he thought one did.

"You eat it."

...Of course.

* * *

As Bagman made his way to the judges table, Ulquiorra pinched his nose and put the gillyweed in his mouth, chewing it with difficulty. It wasn't too bad, it was very chewy like calamari or octopus tentacles, though it was disgustingly slimy. "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two… three!" On 'three' Ulquiorra swallowed, removed his socks and shoes and waded out to the water. A few steps into the lake, he couldn't breathe, like he was being smothered by an invisible cushion. He dove into the icy water and felt the sides of his neck, gasping for oxygen. Gills. His fingers were webbed, and his feet had elongated and were webbed too, like flippers. They propelled him through the water quickly and the water felt cool and pleasant and he no longer had to blink.

_**Cool. **_ Murciélago said, impressed.

* * *

_An hour long you'll have to look, _

_And to recover what we took…_

Ulquiorra swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. Ulquiorra swam on past the rock, following the mersong, which sounded like a ghostly eerie chant.

_… your time's half gone, so tarry not _

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot…_

Actual merpeople were a lot different then their Muggle descriptions. There were not beautiful exotic creatures that had man's most coveted features combined with the beauty of the most gorgeous fish. They had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks.

Ulquiorra sped on, looking around fascinated, and soon the dwellings became more numerous. There were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. Ulquiorra swam around a corner and saw a whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson cut from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson. Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Ulquiorra certain that she was somehow related to Fluer. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

* * *

Ulquiorra held Ron in his arms, and waited. It appeared that he had developed what humans called a 'Hero Complex' since he did not leave immediately, instead waiting for the other champions to collect their hostage, so he would be certain that the hostages got to safety. He had tried to free Hermione, but was stopped by the merpeople, who started to point excitedly at Cedric, who was approaching, with what appeared to be an enlarged bubble covering his head.

"Got lost!" he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. "Fleur and Krum're coming now!" He took out a knife, freed Cho and swam up and out of sight.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the monstrosity that Krum had become in order to save Hermione. He had transformed himself into a cross between a shark and man, with the head of a shark and the body of a human. He began to snap at Hermione's ropes, so Ulquiorra handed him the jagged stone that he had used to free Ron, afraid that Krum would accidentally bit Hermione's arm off. Taking the stone, Krum hacked at her ropes and once she was free, grabbed her around the waist and rose to the surface rapidly.

* * *

Ulquiorra raised his wand and pointed them at the merpeople guarding the small girl. He set Ron on the lake floor and held up three fingers. _One._ He held up a finger, noting the merpeople's fear. They probably didn't know any magic. _Two._ Two fingers. He slowly raised a third finger and they scattered. He turned and finished freeing the pale child. Grabbing Ron in one hand, and the girl int the other, he kicked off the ground and pumped his flippers furiously. Ron and the child were slowing him down greatly, and he fixed his eyes on the surface. It was still dark...

He could the merpeople swim around him easily, watching him curiously. His flippers became feet, and water flooded into his mouth and into his lungs...he was drowning. A little further...black was closing in at the edge of his vision...

* * *

Air. What a lovely thing. Ulquiorra broke through the surface, gasping, pulling up Ron and the little veela looking girl with him. The merpeople surrounded him, but they were smiling, probably impressed that he survived. Ron and the girl opened their eyes, the girl looked scared and confused, where Ron just spat out a stream of water. "Wet, isn't it?" Then he spotted Fleur's sister. "What did you bring her for?"

"Fleur... did not come." Ulquiorra panted "Had to... bring...her...with us..."

"Harry, you prat," said Ron, "you didn't take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!"

"The song said -"

"It was only to make sure you got back inside the time limit!" said Ron. "I hope you didn't waste time down there acting the hero!"

* * *

Ulquiorra could see Madam Pomfrey fussing over Hermione, Krum, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets, as they swam, and helped the girl to swim, to shore. Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Ulquiorra and Ron from the bank as they swam nearer, but Percy, who looked very white and somehow much younger than usual, came splashing out to meet them. Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting to return to the water. "Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"

Ulquiorra was too tired to respond, so he continued to slowly move to the shore. Percy seized Ron and was dragging him back to the bank, Ron protesting. Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Ulquiorra upright, since he found it very hard to stand without stumbling, and Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister. "It was ze grindylows… zey attacked me… oh Gabrielle, I thought… I thought…"

"Come here, you," said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Ulquiorra and pulled him over to Hermione and the others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket that he felt as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down his throat. Steam gushed out of his ears. "Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!" Ulquiorra shook his head. "Jaggerjaques helped." Hermione beamed. "You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," said Krum. Ulquiorra had the impression that Krum was drawing her attention back onto himself, something he had often done with the woman when she was surrounded by other Espada males, though he was often not aware that he was doing it. Hermione brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry… Did it take you ages to find us?"

"No. I was waiting for Fluer to rescue the child."

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy wailing that she was. Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think." The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone to rescue Ron from Percy's clutches and she led him over to Ulquiorra and the others. She gave him a blanket and some Pepperup Potion, then went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them. "Look after Gabrielle," she told her, and then she turned to Ulquiorra. "You saved 'er," she said breathlessly. "Even though she was not your 'ostage." Ulquiorra nodded. He didn't regret it, it was what the woman would have wanted him to do, and he felt strangely proud of himself because of that. "Yes."

Fleur bent down, kissed Ulquiorra twice on each cheek (he felt his face burn and felt ridiculously shy), then said to Ron, "And you too-you 'elped"

"Yeah," said Ron, looking extremely hopeful, "yeah, a bit -" Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Hermione looked simply furious, but just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Mer-chief-tainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points." Applause from the stands.

"I deserved zero," said Fleur throatily, shaking her magnificent head. "Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour." Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Ulquiorra saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look and felt envy twinge. "We therefore award him forty-seven points." Ulquiorra sighed. If Cedric had been outside the time limit, he most certainly had been. "Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Mer-chieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own." Ron and Hermione both gave Ulquiorra half-exasperated, half-sympathizing looks, which he stonily ignored. "Most of the judges," Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However… Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points." Ulquiorra jolted in pleasant surprise. He was now tied for first place with Cedric. Ron and Hermione, caught by surprise, stared at Ulquiorra, then started applauding hard with the rest of the crowd. "There you go. Harry!" Ron shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick after all - you were showing moral fiber!"

Fleur was clapping very hard too, but Krum didn't look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering to listen. "The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

* * *

Ron, being a hostage, was basking in his rare chance to be in the limelight, and soon the tale of bewitched sleep and promises of awakening above the water (i.e. the truth) turned to a thrilling story of struggling kidnap against 50 armed merman.

"But I had my wand hidden up my sleeve," he assured Padma Patil, who seemed to be a lot keener on Ron now that he was getting so much attention and was making a point of talking to him every time they passed in the corridors. "I could've taken those mer-idiots any time I wanted."

**"Really?" One girl said skeptically. "I heard from Granger that it was simply a bewitched sleep."**

**"PWND!" Her male companion exclaimed to the confusion of his wizard classmates. "Nice one, Icy!"**

**"...Thanks, Twili. I guess."**

The talk of the second task still hadn't worn off. **This one kid, who walked around with a hood covering his face and identity, had apparently collected bets on the tournament during the second task under the name "****Kisa Teh Puppy ****". He was combing his clients and collecting or giving out money based on the bets' results. Strange guy...**

* * *

Sirius' letter was almost as brief as his previous one.

_Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can. _

Ulquiorra sighed. That idiot. "He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?" said Ron incredulously.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" said Hermione. "I cannot believe him," said Ulquiorra tiredly, "If he is caught…"

"Made it so far, though, hasn't he?" said Ron. "And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore."

"What'cha talking about?" Ron yelled out and spun around to see Grimmjow looking at them curiously, holding a plate in his hand. Turning to a witch sitting next to Ulquiorra, who also ignoring their conversation being deeply involved in her book, he tapped her shoulder. Turning, she came face to face with French Grimmjow.

You see, Regular Grimmjow and French Grimmjow were very dangerous for _very_ different reasons.

Regular Grimmjow as just a violent loving nut, and a bit of a psychopath.

French Grimmjow had the ability to make women do whatever the hell he wanted with a simple devious smirk (which wasn't that hard since it was his default face) and a few words.

"Excusez-moi? Would you be so kind as to move so I could sit with my friend?" He asked, smirking sexily, and she nodded, not even able to speak anymore as she collected her book and stood up. Grimmjow, completing his 'attack' took her hand, kissed it, and said, "Merci, Mademoiselle." She staggered off and he took her seat. "Piece of cake." he said, taking some fish and putting it on his plate. Mouth full of fish, he turned to Ulquiorra. "What're talking about?" He spoke rather clearly for someone with a mouth full of food.

"...my friend?"

"Hermione. Not you."

"Ah. For a second I thought you got brain damage."

"Nope. Still hate your guts."

Hermione and Ron were still baffled about Ulquiorra and Grimmjow's relationship, and would forever be baffled. What happened next only made them even more baffled and filled them with doubt of Ulquiorra's sanity. "So, what are you talking about?"

"My falsely accused mass murderer godfather that has snuck back into the country to visit."

"Huh. Which one?"

"Sirius Black."

"Oh yeah, I've heard about him. Can I come?"

"-sigh- Why not? We are going on Saturday."

"Cool."

_

* * *

_

"Are you crazy?" Ron shouted as they made their way to potions. "Why did you tell him?" Ulquiorra sighed. "He will not tell anyone."

"How can you be sure?" Hermione hissed. "He seemed suspiciously calm about it!"

"If he does tell anyone his ass is mine. And I will tell everyone about the Incident that Never Happened (1)."

"The what?"

"Nothing."

* * *

A group of Slytherins, including Malfoy and Pansy what's-her-face, were looking at something Ulquiorra couldn't see and sniggering heartily. Pansy's pug-like face peered excitedly around Goyle's broad back as The Trio approached. "There they are, there they are!" she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. Ulquiorra saw that Pansy had a magazine in her hands - Witch Weekly. "You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!" Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside. Hermione, Ulquiorra, and Ron headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients of today's potion on the blackboard, Hermione hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. At last, in the center pages, Hermione found what they were looking for. Ulquiorra and Ron leaned in closer. A color photograph of Ulquiorra headed a short piece entitled:

_Harry Potter's Secret Heartache _

Oh, god. Ulquiorra thought with impending horror, seeing doom on the horizon.

_A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss. Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl." However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest. "She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."_

_Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate. _

Hermione took it rather well, unlike Ulquiorra, who felt a little nauseated.

* * *

"I have not been anywhere near your office." Ulquiorra said coldly. "Don't lie to me," Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Ulquiorra's emeralds. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them." Ulquiorra glared into Snape's eyes. He hadn't stolen either of these things from Snape. Hermione had taken the boomslang skin back in their second year. Grimmjow, Ulquiorra assumed, had stolen the gillyweed. "I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about," Ulquiorra lied smoothly. "One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!"

"Right," said Ulquiorra coolly, turning back to his ginger roots. "I will bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there." Snape's eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the inside of his black robes. Snape had drawn out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion. Ulquiorra stared at it. "Do you know what this is Potter?" Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again. "No," said Ulquiorra simply, staring at it curiously. "It is Veritaserum - a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," said Snape viciously. "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips" - he shook the crystal bottle slightly - "right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then Potter… then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not." Ulquiorra's eyes closed and reopened, focused on his ginger roots. He did not like the sound of a truth potion. He did not think the Wizarding World would like the fact that he was a Espada solider of a living dead (now actually dead) maniac reincarnated into their savior.

* * *

Ulquiorra cleaned up his purposely spilled armadillo bile and listened intently to Snape and Karkaroff's conversation. "What's so urgent?" he heard Snape hiss at Karkaroff. "This," said Karkaroff, and Ulquiorra, peering around the edge of his cauldron, saw Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm. "Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since -"

"Put it away!" snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom. "But you must have noticed -" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice. "We can talk later, Karkaroff!" spat Snape. "Potter! What are you doing?"

"Cleaning my armadillo bile." Ulquiorra replied, holding up a sodden rag. Karkaroff left and Ulquiorra, not wanting to be in the same room as the extremely agitated Snape, followed quickly.

* * *

The Trio (and Grimmjow) made their way down to Hogsmeade, a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice in Ulquiorra's bag, Grimmjow looking around curiously, darting about to investigate anything he found remotely interesting. Ulquiorra was amused to find how catlike Grimmjow could be. Then he wondered how Sirius (The dog) would get along with Grimmjow. Hermione, though extremely on guard with Grimmjow coming along, was amused with his antics. "Well, it's understandable, I suppose." She said as Grimmjow, once again, darted ahead and into Zonko's. "He's never been to Hogsmeade before." Finally, they moved past Dervish and Banges (only after Grimmjow investigated it enough for his liking) and towards the edge of the village. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then they turned a corner and saw a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth, at the end of the lane, sitting and waiting for them. The dog got up happily spotting them, but growled and dropped the newspapers to bark aggressively at Grimmjow, who hissed angrily back. "You didn't say he was a _dog._" Grimmjow snarled, keeping his eyes on Sirius, bristling.

"Must have slipped my mind." Ulquiorra said and turned to Sirius. "It is fine. Hello Sirius." Still keeping an eye of Grimmjow, the dog sniffed Ulquiorra's bag and wagged his tail, the possible threat of Grimmjow taking a backseat at the thought of food. Picking up the newspapers with his mouth, he trotted away from them and led them to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. They followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour they climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail, sweating in the sun, the shoulder straps of Ulquiorra's bag cutting into his shoulders irritatedly. Grimmjow, however, seemed to be enjoying him self, unzipping his jacket. As usual, nothing was underneath. Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when they reached the place where he had vanished, they saw a narrow fissure in the rock. They squeezed into it and found themselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of them. Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione bowed to him, not breaking eye contact and Buckbeak bowed back. Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow. "Bow. And do not break eye contact or blink to much." Grimmjow did, and Buckbeak, sensing the threat of a panther, bowed hesitantly more out of survival instinct then respect.

Sirius was wearing ragged gray robes; the same ones he had been wearing when he had left Azkaban. His black hair was longer than it had been when he had appeared in the fire, and it was untidy and matted once more and he looked very thin. "Chicken!" he said hoarsely after removing the old Daily Prophets from his mouth and throwing them down onto the cave floor. Ulquiorra handed him his bag. "Thanks," said Sirius, opening it, grabbing a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

"Eh. Rats don't taste that bad." Grimmjow said suddenly and everyone stared at him. He looked defensive. "Well they don't!" Ulquiorra sighed. "Trash, this is my godfather Sirius Black. Sirius, this is the trash." Sirius stared at Grimmjow critically and tense. Grimmjow glared at Ulquiorra. "What the hell bastard? And you could've mentioned he was a damn dog!" Sirius glared.

"What's wrong with dogs?" He growled.

"They're loud, they stink, they _never_ shut up, and my god, they're such freakin' _**idiots**__-_" Ulquiorra smirked.

This was even funnier then he imagined.

* * *

"What are you doing here, Sirius?" Ulquiorra asked, after separating the yelling Grimmjow and Sirius. "Fulfilling my duty as godfather," said Sirius, gnawing on a chicken bone in a very doglike way. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray." He was still grinning, but seeing Ulquiorra's deadpan face, said more seriously, "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter… well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried." He nodded at the yellowing Daily Prophets on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them. Ulquiorra, however, continued to stare at Sirius. "What if they catch you? What if you are seen?"

"You three and Dumbledore...and apparently, this guy," Que a hateful glare at Grimmjow, which Grimmjow eagerly returned, "are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," said Sirius, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg. Ron nudged Ulquiorra and passed him the Daily Prophets. There were two: The first bore the headline Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch, the second, Ministry Witch Still Missing-Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved. Ulquiorra scanned the article quickly, Grimmjow reading it over his shoulder. "They making it sound like he is dying," said Ulquiorra slowly. "But he cannot be that ill if he managed to get up here…"

Weeks earlier, Ulquiorra had spotted Crouch on the Marauders Map in Snape's office and had donned the Invisibility Cloak to investigate, but he was so distracted and stressed with the upcoming task that he got caught in the trick step. It was only the quick think on Mad-Eye Moody's part that he was able to escape Snape and Filch. Unfortunately, Moody borrowed the map and Ulquiorra, in his debt, could hardly refuse.

"My brothers Crouch's personal assistant," Ron informed Sirius. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Ulquiorra thoughtfully and Grimmjow frowned. "The night my name came out of the goblet…"

"Wait...isn't Crouch one of your Ministry guys?" Grimmjow asked and Sirius blinked, suspicion sparking in his eyes. "What do you mean 'your' Ministry guys?" Grimmjow snorted. "I'm French, dumbass. I go to Beauxbatons Academy." Sirius rounded on Ulquiorra. "He's _foreign?_" Ulquiorra nodded absently. "Indeed. Oh yes, that reminds me. Grimmjow, if you tell anyone about Sirius-"

"Yeah, like I'm that pathetic. Who do you think I am, that ferret boy? Mal-something?"

"-well, if you do, I will tell the world about the Incident That Never Happened." Grimmjow looked on with horror. "You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

"Pass."

* * *

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione, an edge to her voice. She was stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching up Sirius's chicken bones. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him." Sirius looked interested. "Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

"Yes, at the Quidditch World Cup," said Ulquiorra told the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Ulquiorra wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. Grimmjow snorted. "Geez. All that shit happened? Shouldn't have left." Ulquiorra ignored him mostly, continuing his tale smoothly while cuffing Grimmjow's head.

When Ulquiorra had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave. "Let me get this straight," he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," said Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione together. "But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"I think he said he had been too busy." Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"No," he Ulquiorra. "I did not need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars." He stared at Sirius. "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," said Sirius. "Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insisted.

"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," said Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace. "Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," said Ulquiorra. "Some Bulgarian ministers… Cornelius Fudge… the Malfoys..."

"The Malfoys!" said Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak tossed his head nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"Anyone else?" said Sirius. Grimmjow raised a hand lazily. "I was there." Sirius, Ron, and Hermione stared. "You were?" Ron asked. Grimmjow nodded. "Yeah. You even saw me. I'm the guy that tried to push Ul-uh, Potter," Grimmjow corrected quickly, as Ulquiorra cleared his throat loudly, "off the Top Box to his death." They all gaped, and Sirius began growling.

"THAT WAS YOU?" Ron yelled out and Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow. "Perhaps you should have worded that differently."

"Hey! You tried to kill me too! ...I was winning, by the way."

"True, and no you were not."

"Was too!"

"Was not."

"Was too!"

"...Call it a draw?"

"...Fine."

"Fine." Ulquiorra conceded, turning back to the stunned group. "It was not him." Ulquiorra continued. "He does not have the intelligence-"

"HEY!"

"-nor is he pathetic enough to follow Voldemort. While he is still pathetic," Ulquiorra continued, not wanting it to seem like a compliment, "he has too much pride to become a minion."

"Yeah, did that already. Not doing it again." Grimmjow muttered too low for anyone but Ulquiorra to hear.

* * *

"When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

"He went to look in the bushes," said Ulquiorra, "but there was not anyone else there."

"Of course," Sirius muttered, pacing up and down, "of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf… and then he sacked her?"

"Yes," said Hermione in a heated voice, "he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled -"

"Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!" said Ron. Sirius shook his head and said, "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a mans like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard. "All these absences of Barty Crouch's… he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too… It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"Do you know Crouch, then?" said Ulquiora. Sirius's face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as he had the night when Ulquiorra first met him. "Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial."

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together. Grimmjow growled and Ulquiorra pressed his lips together, both strongly reminded of Aizen's third in command, Tousen Kaname. "No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?" They all shook their heads. "He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," said Sirius. "He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical - and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter," he said, reading the look on Ulquiorra's face. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side… well, you wouldn't understand… you're too young…"

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, with a trace of irritation in his voice. "Try us, why don't you?" A grin flashed across Sirius's thin face.

"All right, I'll try you…" He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing… the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do… that's how it used to be. Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemorts supporters. The Aurors were given powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened…" Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione. "Yep," said Sirius, "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine." He began to wolf down large pieces of bread. "Was his son a Death Eater?" asked Ulquiorra. "No idea," said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters – but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered. Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark. "Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again. Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial… then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the dementors?" asked Ulquiorra quietly and Grimmjow winced, though never having to face one. He knew Ulquiorra though and had a feeling Mr. "See my True Despair" would really hate those guys. "That's right," said Sirius, and he didn't look remotely amused now. "I saw the dementors bringing him in. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though… they all went quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep…"

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Grimmjow asked. "No," said Sirius dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"...Ouch."

"He wasn't the only one," said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Crouch never came for his sons body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it." Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask of pumpkin juice and drained it. "So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic… next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

* * *

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen…" He looked particularly hard at Ulquiorra. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one has tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Ulquiorra said. Sirius scowled at him and Grimmjow since he burst out laughing. Turning to Ulquiorra he gasped. "Y-you!" Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "You made a joke!" He gasped and fell over, roaring with laughter. Sirius sighed. "I don't care… I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay? I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," said Sirius, "see if I can scrounge another paper." He transformed into the great black dog before they left the cave, and they walked back down the mountainside back to the village. Here he allowed each of them to pat him on the head... except Grimmjow. But Grimmjow didn't want to pet him, and even looked kinda disgusted that the other even _touched_ him. Sirius then turned and set off at a run around the outskirts of the village. The Trio and Grimmjow then made their way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.

"I guess he's alright. ...For a _dog._"

* * *

"What've they done to it?" Cedric said indignantly, stopping dead. The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction. "Hedges." said Ulquiorra matter of factly, bending to examine the nearest one. "Hello there!" called a cheery voice. Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Ulquiorra and Cedric made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur beamed at Ulquiorra as he came nearer, as her attitude toward him had changed completely since he had saved her sister from the lake. She was actually a quite bearable person when she didn't think you were absolute trash.

"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily as Ulquiorra and Cedric climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, spotting the displeased looks on Ulquiorra and Cedric's faces, "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

"Maze," grunted Krum. "That's right!" said Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We semply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur. "There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures… then there will be spells that must be broken… all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." Bagman grinned at Ulquiorra and Cedric. "Then Mr. Krum will enter… then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?" Ulquiorra, who knew quite well the kind of creatures that Hagrid was likely to provide for an event like this, thought it was unlikely to be any fun at all. However, he nodded politely like the other champions. "Very well… if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly…" Bagman hurried alongside Ulquiorra as they began to travel their way out of the growing maze. Ulquiorra had the feeling that Bagman was going to start offering to help him again, and he was really not in the mood to deal with him, but Krum tapped Ulquiorra on the shoulder.

"Could I haff a vord?"

"All right," said Ulquiorra, slightly surprised. Krum had never wanted to speak to Ulquiorra before, and the only time he actually spoke to him was to ask where Hermione was at the Ball. "Vill you valk vith me?"

"Okay," said Ulquiorra shrugging. Bagman looked slightly perturbed. "I'll wait for you. Harry, shall I?"

"No. I can find the castle on my own." After tossing the scathing comment over his shoulder, Ulquiorra left the stadium with Krum, heading towards the Forest. "Why are we going this way?"

"Don't vont to be overheard," said Krum shortly. When at last they had reached a quiet stretch of ground a short way from the Beauxbatons horses' paddock, Krum stopped in the shade of the trees and turned to face Ulquiorra.

"I vant to know," he said, glowering, "vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny." Krum acting so serious and secretive, Ulquiorra was expecting something less trivial. "Nothing," he said. But Krum glowered at him, so Ulquiorra elaborated. "We are friends. She is not my girlfriend and she never has been. That Skeeter woman is just making things up."

"Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often," said Krum, looking suspiciously at Ulquiorra.

"Yeah, because were _friends._" said Ulquiorra, stressing the word friends. He couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation with Viktor Krum, the famous International Quidditch player. It was as though the eighteen-year-old Krum thought he, Ulquiorra, a boy four years younger, as a real rival. "You haff never… you haff not…"

"No," said Ulquiorra very firmly. Krum looked slightly happier. He stared at Ulquiorra for a few seconds, then said, "You fly very veil. I vos votching at the first task."

"Thank you," said Ulquiorra. "I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. The Wronski Feint, you really -" But something moved behind Krum in the trees, and Ulquiorra, who had a ridiculous amount of experience of the sort of thing that lurked in the forest, instinctively grabbed Krum's arm and pulled him around. "Vot is it?" Ulquiorra drew his wand. "Many things lurk in the Forest."

Suddenly a man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Ulquiorra didn't recognize him… then he realized it was Mr. Crouch. He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched. He was unshaven and gray with exhaustion and his neat hair and mustache were both in need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see. "Vosn't he a judge?" said Krum, staring at Mr. Crouch. "Isn't he vith your Ministry?" Ulquiorra nodded, hesitated for a moment, then walked slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at him, but continued to talk to a nearby tree. "… and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve…"

"Mr. Crouch?" said Ulquiorra cautiously. "… and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen… do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will…" Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulging. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees. "Mr. Crouch?" Ulquiorra said loudly. "Are you all right?" Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head. Ulquiorra looked around at Krum, who had followed him into the trees, and was looking down at Crouch in alarm. "Vot is wrong with him?"

"No idea," Ulquiorra muttered. "Listen, you had better go and get someone -"

"Dumbledore!" gasped Mr. Crouch. He reached out and seized a handful of Ulquiorra's robes, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Ulquiorra's head. Ulquiorra, alarmed, allowed himself to be dragged. "I need… see… Dumbledore…Must… tell… Dumbledore…"

"Get up, Mr. Crouch," said Ulquiorra loudly and clearly. "Get up, I will take you to Dumbledore." Mr. Crouch's eyes rolled forward onto Ulquiorra. "Who… you?" he whispered. "I am a student at the school," said Ulquiorra, looking around at Krum for some help, but Krum was hanging back, looking extremely nervous. "You're not… his?" whispered Crouch, his mouth sagging. "No," said Ulquiorra, having a small idea who Crouch was talking about. "Dumbledore's?"

"Yes."

"Warn… Dumbledore…"

"I will get Dumbledore if you let go of me," said Ulquiorra firmly. "Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I will get him…"

"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge." Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and seemed completely unaware that anyone was there. "Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.S, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response…"

"You stay here with him." Ulquiorra said to Krum. "I will get Dumbledore, I will be quicker, I know where his office is -"

"He is mad," said Krum doubtfully, staring down at Crouch, who was still gabbling to the tree, apparently convinced it was Percy. Ulquiorra glanced back.

"Indeed."

* * *

"What did Mr. Crouch say. Harry?" said Dumbledore as they walked swiftly down the marble staircase. "He said he wants to warn you… said he has done something terrible… he mentioned his son… and Bertha Jorkins and Voldemort… something about Voldemort getting stronger…"

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, and he quickened his pace as they hurried out into the pitch-darkness. "He's not acting normally," Ulquiorra said, hurrying along beside Dumbledore. "He does not seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see you… I left him with Viktor Krum." Probably not the smartest move, but one of them had to get Dumbledore and Krum was four years older with four more years of magical experience.

* * *

"Viktor?" Ulquiorra called but no one answered.

"Lumos," Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up. Its narrow beam traveled from tree trunk to tree trunk, illuminating the ground. And then it fell upon a pair of feet. Ulquiorra and Dumbledore hurried forward. Krum was sprawled on the forest floor and he seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. Dumbledore bent over Krum and gently lifted one of his eyelids. "Stunned," he said softly. His half-moon glasses glittered in the wandlight as he peered around at the surrounding trees. "Should I go and get someone?" said Ulquiorra.

"No," said Dumbledore swiftly. "Stay here." He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. Ulquiorra saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird. It looked like a Patronus. Could they have other uses besides warding off dementors?

Dumbledore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, "Ennervate." Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumbledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and made him lie still. "He attacked me!" Krum muttered, putting a hand up to his head. "The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!"

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid said, his eyes widening, as he lay eyes on the scene. "Harry - what the -?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Karkaroff," said Dumbledore. "His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody -"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a wheezy growl. "I'm here." Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit. "Damn leg," he said furiously. "Would've been here quicker… what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch -"

"Crouch?" said Hagrid blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply.

"Oh yeah… right y'are, Professor…" Hagrid, turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him. "I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," growled Moody, and he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest. Neither Dumbledore nor Ulquiorra spoke again until they heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them. He looked pale and agitated. "What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum on the ground and Dumbledore and Harry beside him. "What's going on?"

"I vos attacked!" said Krum, sitting up now and rubbing his head. "Mr. Crouch or votever his name -"

"Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor," Dumbledore started, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, looking livid. "Treachery!" he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. "It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences - here's what I think of you!" Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet.

_**...Oh no he didn't. **_Murciélago snapped.

* * *

"Kindly escort Harry back up to the castle, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply. Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look. "Maybe I'd better stay here. Headmaster…"

"You will take Harry back to school, Hagrid," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "Take him right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry - I want you to stay there. Anything you might want to do - any owls you might want to send - they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"...Yes Professor."

* * *

_Harry - _

_What do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed. Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your letter giving me your word you won't stray out-of-bounds again. _

_Sirius_

"Well, someone's overprotective." Ulquiorra turned to see Grimmjow reading over his shoulder. Sitting down at the table and pulling some scrambled eggs towards him, he yawned. "So, what happened this time?" he asked pouring a glass of milk.

"Krum was attacked by one of our Ministry officials that had obviously gone insane."

"Huh."

* * *

There were two dark shapes on the floor beside a tall chair… both of them were stirring… One was a huge snake… the other was a man… a short, balding man, a man with watery eyes and a pointed nose… he was wheezing and sobbing on the rug… "You are in luck, Wormtail," said a cold, high-pitched voice from the depths of the chair. "You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead."

"My Lord!" gasped the man on the floor. "My Lord, I am… I am so pleased… and so sorry…"

"Nagini," said the cold voice, "you are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all… but never mind, never mind… there is still Harry Potter…" The snake hissed and Ulquiorra could see its tongue fluttering. "Now, Wormtail," said the cold voice, "perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you…"

"My Lord… no… I beg you…" The tip of a wand emerged from around the back of the chair. It was pointing at Wormtail. "Crucio!" said the cold voice. Wormtail screamed, screamed as though every nerve in his body were on fire, the screaming filled Ulquiorra's ears as the scar on his forehead seared with pain; he fell to his knees...Voldemort would hear him, would know he was there…

"Harry! Harry!"

Ulquiorra blinked awake, and came face to face with a terrified Ron Weasely in the ridiculously humid Divination classroom.

* * *

A shallow stone basin lay there inside the open cabinet, with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols that Ulquiorra did not recognize. Silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, and it was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly. Ulquiorra drew his wand and gently prodded the odd substance. The surface of the silvery stuff inside the basin began to swirl very fast. The silvery substance had become transparent and it looked like glass. He looked down into it expecting to see the stone bottom of the basin - and saw instead an enormous room below the surface of the mysterious substance. The room was dimly lit; he thought it might even be underground, for there were no windows, merely torches in brackets such as the ones that illuminated the walls of Hogwarts. Ulquiorra saw that rows and rows of witches and wizards were seated around every wall on what seemed to be benches rising in levels. An empty chair stood in the very center of the room. Chains encircled the arms of it, as though its occupants were usually tied to it.

It looked like a trial room.

Realizing what he was about to do was very stupid, Ulquiorra nevertheless withdrew his other hand from his pocket and slid it slowly into the silvery stuff. The room lurched, and Ulquiorra was tossed into the basin, and he was falling. Falling deep down into darkness, spinning and spinning as if he were trapped in a whirlpool.

* * *

Ulquiorra found himself sitting on a bench at the end of the room inside the basin, a bench raised high above the others. He looked up at the high stone ceiling where he came but there was nothing there but dark, solid stone. Looking around tensly, he noticed there were about 200 wizards and witches in the room and none were looking at him, nor noticed him fall in. He turned to the wizard next to and jolted slightly.

It was Professor Dumbledore, looking exactly the same as always.

"Professor." Ulquiorra said, eyes slightly wide. Dumbledore didn't look at him. Ulquiorra frowned. "...Professor?" He waved a hand in front of his face, but Dumbledore didn't even blink. Ulquiorra frowned. He was in a place where he practically didn't exist...but he was still here, observing. Perhaps...

Ulquiorra's musings were cut off as two dementors, each holding the arm of a man, glided in and placed the man, who looked pale and sick, into the chained chair. They glided off and the doors slammed behind them. Good riddance. Ulquiorra took a better look at the prisoner on the chair and saw that it was Karkaroff.

Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaroff looked much younger and his hair and goatee were black. He was not dressed in sleek furs, but in thin and ragged robes. As Ulquiorra watched intently, the chains on the arms of the chair glowed suddenly gold and snaked their way up Karkaroff's arms, binding him there. "Igor Karkaroff," said a curt voice to Ulquiorra's left. He looked around and saw Mr. Crouch standing up in the middle of the bench beside him. Crouch's hair was dark, his face was much less lined. "You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us." Ulquiorra knew where he was.

He was in the memory of Igor Karkaroff's trial as he sold out his fellow Death Eaters and wormed his way to freedom.

* * *

"Snape!" Karkaroff yelled, and Ulquiorra's eyes widened. "Serverus Snape!"

"Snape has been cleared by this council," said Crouch scornfully. "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."

"No!" shouted Karkaroff, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"

"I have given evidence already on this matter," Dumbledore said calmly. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."

"Very well, Karkaroff," Crouch said coldly, "you have been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime…"

The room swirled to nothing like smoke and Ulquiorra was floating in a abyss of nothing.

_**OMG.**_

_Quite._

_

* * *

_

The atmosphere was quite different: relaxed, even cheerful. The witches and wizards all around the walls were talking to one another, almost as though they were at some sort of sporting event. Ulquiorra noticed a witch halfway up the rows of benches opposite. She had short blonde hair, was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end of an acid-green quill. It was, unmistakably, a younger Rita Skeeter. Ulquiorra sneered at her memory and looked around; Dumbledore was sitting beside him again, wearing different robes. Mr. Crouch looked more tired and somehow fiercer, and gaunter. A different memory, a different day, and a different trial. The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room. This was a Ludo Bagman who was clearly at the height of his Quidditch-playing fitness. His nose wasn't broken now; he was tall and lean and muscular. Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, but it did not bind him there as it had bound Karkaroff, and Bagman, perhaps taking heart from this, glanced around at the watching crowd, waved at a couple of them, and managed a small smile. "Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters," said Mr. Crouch. "We have heard the evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgment?" Ulquiorra's mind boggled. _Eh?_

"Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters," said Mr. Crouch. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than -" Several of the witches and wizards stood up, shaking their heads, and even their fists, at Mr. Crouch. "But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman called earnestly over the crowd's babble, his round blue eyes widening. "Old Rookwood was a friend of my dad's… never crossed my mind he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on… once my Quidditch days are over. I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?" There were titters from the crowd. Special treatment due to fame. Pathetic. "It will be put to the vote," said Mr. Crouch coldly. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. "The jury will please raise their hands… those in favor of imprisonment…" Not one person raised their hand.

* * *

Once again, he and Dumbledore were still sitting beside Mr. Crouch, but the atmosphere was completely different. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. Crouch looked gaunter and grayer than ever before and a nerve was twitching in his temple. "Bring them in," he said, and his voice echoed through the silent dungeon. The door in the corner opened yet again and six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people in the crowd turn to look up at Mr. Crouch. A few of them whispered to one another. The dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. There was a stocky man who stared blankly up at Crouch, a thinner and more nervous-looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd; a woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his strawcolored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief. Crouch stood up and looked down upon the four in front of him with pure hatred in his face. "You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," he said clearly, "so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous -"

"Father," said the boy with the straw-colored hair. "Father… please…"

"- that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son's voice. "We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror - Frank Longbottom - and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -" Ulquiorra's eyes were growing wider by the second. _Longbottom? Does he mean Neville's father?_

"Father, I didn't!" shrieked the boy in chains below. "I didn't, I swear it. Father, don't send me back to the dementors -"

"You are further accused," bellowed Mr. Crouch, "of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury -"

"Mother!" screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob. Ulquiorra felt a stab of pity. "Mother, stop him. Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"

"I now ask the jury," shouted Mr. Crouch, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!" In unison, the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The crowd around the walls began to clap, their faces full of savage triumph. Ulquiorra felt disgusted that people could be so happy sending someone to the dementors. The boy began to scream. "No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!" The dementors were gliding back into the room. The boys' three companions rose quietly from their seats and the woman with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at Crouch and called, "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!" But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though it was pointless; their powers were already affecting him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle. "I'm your son!" he screamed up at Crouch. "I'm your son!"

"You are no son of mine!" bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. "I have no son!" The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and fainted in her seat. "Take them away!" Crouch roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"

"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"

"I think Harry, it is time to return to my office," said a quiet voice in Ulquiorra's ear. Professor Dumbledore placed a hand on his arm and the soared up, felt like he somersaulted and landed on his feet in the Headmaster's office.

* * *

"What was that?"

"It is called a Pensieve, one simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

"...I...see. My apologies for intruding."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Curiosity is not a sin," he said. "But we should exercise caution with our curiosity… yes, indeed…"

* * *

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."

"Yes," said Ulquiorra promptly. "I was in Divination just now, and I fell asleep." He hesitated here, wondering if a reprimand was coming, but Dumbledore merely said, "Quite understandable. Continue."

"I had a dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail...then Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like, Wormtail's blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail would not be fed to the snake beside his chair. He said he would be feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail - and my scar hurt," Ulquiorra finished. "It woke me up. It was terribly painful, I must admit." Dumbledore merely looked at him. Ulquiorra stared back.

"I see," said Dumbledore quietly. "I see. Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?"

"How did you know it woke me up over the summer?" said Ulquiorra suspiciously, feeling rather invaded and claustrophobic. "You are not Sirius's only correspondent," said Dumbledore. "I have also been in contact with him ever since he left Hogwarts last year."

* * *

Dumbledore looked very intently at Ulquiorra for a moment, and then said, "I have a theory, no more than that… It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

"Why?"

"Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed," said Dumbledore. "That is no ordinary scar." _...Great._

"So you think that dream really happened?" Ulquiorra asked sharply. This was bad...

"It is possible," said Dumbledore. "I would say - probable. Harry - did you see Voldemort?"

"No," said Ulquiorra, drifting in and out of thought. "Just the back of his chair. He has no body... But… how could he have held the wand?" Ulquiorra said slowly.

"How indeed?" muttered Dumbledore. "How indeed…"

* * *

The Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers.

The Reductor Curse, which would enable him to blast solid objects out of his way.

The Four-Point Spell, that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze.

Ulquiorra learned all of these, but was having difficulty with the Shield Charm.

...Grimmjow, of course, had his own way of helping.

Waltzing in, he pointed his wand at Ulquiorra with lightning speed and lazily said, "Impedimenta!" On intsinct, Ulquiorra whirled around and commanded, "Protego!" Grimmjow's curse rebounded perfectly and sent Grimmjow into the wall. Grimmjow groaned. "That's the way, bat bastard...ow..."

* * *

Very reluctantly, Ron handed over the newspaper. Ulquiorra curiously turned it over and found himself staring at his own picture, beneath the banner headline:

_HARRY POTTER DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS_

_The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School. Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying. It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potters brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You- Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion. "He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention." The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public._

"_Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power." Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers."  
Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence."_

_Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening. _

Ulquiorra snorted, folding the paper and setting in down. "That is just pathetic."

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron said. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard -"

"The window was open," said Ulquiorra thoughtfully. "I opened it to breathe."

"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione said. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

"You tell me how she did it."

"I've been trying!" said Hermione. "But I… but…" An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione's face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair. "Are you all right?" said Ron, frowning at her. "Yes," said Hermione breathlessly. She ran her fingers through her hair again. Ulquiorra and Ron stared at each other.

"I've had an idea," Hermione said, gazing into space. "I think I know… because then no one would be able to see… even Moody… and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge… but she's not allowed… she's definitely not allowed… I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library - just to make sure!" She ran off to the library, leaving Ulquiorra and Ron to stare incredulously after her.

"...Your exam is in 10 minutes."

"I know! She must really hate that woman to risk missing an exam."

* * *

"Surprise!" Mrs. Weasley said excitedly as he smiled broadly and walked over to them. "Thought we'd come and watch you. Harry!" She bent down and kissed him on the cheek and Ulquiorra blinked at such a blatant display of motherly affection. "You all right?" said Bill, grinning at Ulquiorra and shaking his hand. "Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail." Fleur Delacour, Ulquiorra noticed with amuesment, was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother's shoulder. Ulquiorra could tell she had no objection whatsoever to long hair or earrings with fangs on them.

* * *

Sensing the cold vibes Mrs. Weasley was sending Hermione, Ulquiorra, not even looking up from his lunch, said, "She is not my girlfriend," and continued eating.

Mrs. Weasely was much friendlier to Hermione after that.

* * *

"So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" said Bagman. "Three - two - one -" He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Ulquiorra and Cedric hurried forward into the maze.

Let the games begin.

* * *

**GRIMMJOW POV**

* * *

Grimmjow had a bad feeling. A really, _really_ bad feeling concerning the task, the maze, and everything really.

Granted, what he was doing was kinda stupid, but Grimmjow was never one to think things through.

Ulquiorra, surrounded by the magical energy coming from the maze and it's obstacles, never noticed the reiatsu of the Disillusioned Grimmjow in his release as he stalked Ulquiorra from the sky.

* * *

Twelve feet tall, its face hidden by its hood, its rotting, scabbed hands outstretched, the dementor advanced, sensing its way blindly toward him. Ulquiorra summoned the happiest thought he could, concentrated with all his might on the thought of the woman fearless face, raised his wand, and said, "Expecto Patronum!" The silver Murciélago erupted from the end of Ulquiorra's wand and soared towards the dementor, which fell back and tripped over the hem of its robes. Ulquiorra had never seen a dementor stumble.

"You are a boggart. Riddikulus!" There was a loud crack, and the shape-shifter exploded in a wisp of smoke. The silver Zanpaktou faded from sight after giving him a salute. Ulquiorra wished she could have stayed, he could have used some company.

* * *

He rounded another corner and found himself facing a Blast-Ended Skrewt. It was around ten feet long, it looked more like a giant scorpion than anything. Its long sting was curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted in the light from Ulquiorra's wand, which he pointed at it. "Stupefy!" The spell hit the skrewt's armor and rebounded. Ulquiorra ducked just in time. The skrewt issued a blast of fire from its end and flew forward toward him. _Since when the __**hell**__ can these things shoot fire?_

"Impedimenta." The spell hit the skrewt's armor again and ricocheted off. "IMPEDIMENTA!" The skrewt was inches from him when it froze - he had managed to hit it on its fleshy, shell-less underside. Ulquiorra pushed himself away from it and ran, hard, in the opposite direction. The skrewt would be regaining the use of its legs at any moment.

* * *

"What are you doing?" yelled Cedric's voice. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?" And then Ulquiorra heard Krum's voice. "Crucio!" The air was suddenly full of Cedric's yells. Ulquiorra began sprinting up his path, trying to find a way into Cedric's. When none appeared, he tried the Reductor Curse. It was hardly effective, but it burned a small hole in the hedge through which Ulquiorra forced his leg, kicking at the thick brambles and branches until they broke and made an opening. Kicking and pushing himself through, he saw Cedric jerking and twitching on the ground, Krum standing over him. Ulquiorra pointed his wand at Krum just as Krum looked up. Krum turned and began to run. Fool. Running was pointless.

"Stupefy!" The spell hit Krum in the back; he stopped dead in his tracks, fell forward, and lay motionless, facedown in the grass. Ulquiorra, wand still pointing at Krum, moved over to Cedric, who had stopped twitching and was lying there panting, his hands over his face. "Are you all right?" Ulquiorra said roughly, grabbing Cedric's arm. "Yeah," panted Cedric. "Yeah… I don't believe it… he crept up behind me… I heard him, I turned around, and he had his wand on me…" Cedric got up, still shaking. They looked down at Krum.

"I cannot believe this… I thought he was all right," Ulquiorra said, staring at Krum, frowning. Something seemed off...

"So did I," said Cedric. "Did you hear Fleur scream earlier?" said Ulquiorra. "Yeah," said Cedric. "You don't think Krum got her too?"

"I do not know," said Ulquiorra slowly.

"Should we leave him here?" Cedric muttered.

"No," said Ulquiorra sharply. "We should send up red sparks. Someone will come and collect him. Otherwise he will probably be eaten by a skrewt."

"He'd deserve it," Cedric muttered, but all the same, he raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking the spot where he lay.

"Well… I s'pose we'd better go on…"

"...Yes..."

* * *

**GRIMMJOW POV**

* * *

Following Ulquiorra, Grimmjow didn't see what happened to Fluer. The minute he heard the scream, he left Ulquiorra to his own devices in the weird golden mist shit and tracked down her magical energy in seconds. He was Aizen's best tracker, a fact that Grimmjow hated, and a fact that usually kept Aizen from kicking him out of the Espada. Coming to a stop, he descened into the maze and came to kneel next to Fluer's unconscious form. "Fleur. Réveiller." Nothing. Grimmjow inhaled the scent of her magical aura.

Stunned.

Pulling out her wand, he shot out red sparks and waited. The big Hogwarts guy, Hag-something, came and Grimmjow took to the skys again.

* * *

"You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me." The Sphinx said tranquilly. "I will not unless you can answer my riddle. Answer on your first guess - I let you pass. Answer wrongly - I attack. Remain silent – I will let you walk away from me unscathed." Ulquiorra weighed his chances. If the riddle was too hard, which he doubted, he could keep silent, get away from the sphinx unharmed, and try and find an alternative route to the center. "Okay," he said. "Can I hear the riddle?" The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:

_"First think of the person who lives in disguise,_

_Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

_Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,_

_The middle of middle and end of the end?_

_And finally give me the sound often heard_

_During the search for a hard-to-find word._

_Now string them together, and answer me this,_

_Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"_

Ulquiorra blinked. "What ever happened to what goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?" The sphinx sighed. "Thanks to that Oedipus guy, everyone knew the answer. He completely ruined that one, and it was such a good riddle too."

* * *

"A spider." Ulquiorra said and the sphinx smiled and let him pass. He had to be close now, his wand was telling him he was going the right way. Ulquiorra broke into a run. He had a choice of paths up ahead. "Point Me." he whispered again to his wand, and it spun around and pointed him to the right-hand one. He dashed up this one and saw light ahead. The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away. A dark figure hurtled out onto the path in front of him. Cedric was sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup, and Ulquiorra knew he would never catch up, Cedric was much taller, and had much longer legs.

...Wait...what was tha- Oh shit.

"Cedric! On your left!" Cedric looked around just in time to hurl himself past the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in his haste, he tripped. Cedric's wand flew out of his hand as a gigantic spider stepped into the path and began to bear down upon Cedric. "Stupefy!" Ulquiorra yelled; the spell hit the spider's gigantic, hairy body, but the spider merely jerked, scuttled around, and ran at Ulquiorra instead.

_...Great._ "Stupefy. Impedimenta! Stupefy!" The spider was either too strong, or too magical to gain damage from Ulquiorra's attacks. He was lifted into the air in its front legs. He tried to kick it but his leg connected with the pincers and next moment he was in excruciating pain. Ulquiorra winced and drew a sharp intake of breath. _FUCK._

He could hear Cedric yelling "Stupefy!" too, but his spell had no more effect than Ulquiorra's. Ulquiorra desperately raised his wand as the spider opened its pincers once more and shouted "Expelliarmus!" It worked a bit, the Disarming Spell made the spider drop him, but that meant that Ulquiorra fell twelve fucking feet onto his already injured leg, which crumpled beneath him. Without pausing to think, he aimed high at the spider's underbelly, as he had done with the skrewt, and shouted "Stupefy!'' just as Cedric yelled the same thing. The two spells combined caused the spider keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and strewing the path with a tangle of hairy legs.

"Harry!" he heard Cedric shouting. "You all right? Did it fall on you?"

"No," Ulquiorra called back, panting. He looked down at his leg and saw it was bleeding freely. He could see some sort of thick, gluey shit from the spider's pincers on his torn robes. He tried to get up, but his leg was shaking badly and did not want to support his weight. He leaned against the hedge, gasping for breath, and looked around. _God, I miss Heirro._

"Go." Ulquiorra grimaced. "Take it. You are already there. Go."

But Cedric didn't move. He merely stood there, looking at him. Then he turned to stare at the cup. Ulquiorra saw the lustful expression on his face in its golden light. Cedric looked around at Ulquiorra again, who was now holding onto the hedge to support himself. Cedric took a deep breath. "You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."

"I does not work like that. Take the damn cup." Ulquiorra said angrily. His leg was very painful, he was aching all over from trying to throw off the spider, and was not in the mood for Cedric to be all noble and Kurosaki like. "The one who reaches the cup first gets the points. That is you. I am not going to win any races on this leg." Cedric took a few paces nearer to the Stunned spider, away from the cup, shaking his head. "No," he said.

"Stop being noble," said Ulquiorra irritably. "Just take it, then we can get out of here." Cedric stared at Ulquiorra, who was panting and could barely hold himself up right.

"You told me about the dragons," Cedric said. "I would've gone down in the first task if you hadn't told me what was coming."

"I had help. Take it." Ulquiorra shot back.

"You should've got more points on the second task," said Cedric mulishly. "You stayed behind to get all the hostages. I should've done that."

"That is because I have developed an extremely infuriating Hero Complex. Take the Cup!"

"No," said Cedric. He stepped over the spider's tangled legs to join Ulquiorra and crossed his arms resolutely. Cedric was serious. He was walking away from the sort of glory Hufflepuff House hadn't had in centuries. And Ulquiorra could see it. The lust in Cedric's eyes. The lust for glory, for fame, for restoring Hufflepuff's name and pride.

Ulquiorra decided. "Together." Cedirc, slowly uncrossed his arms. "What?"

"Together. It will be a Hogwarts victory, either way." Ulquiorra continued, trying to think of happy thoughts to lessen the goddamn annoying pain in his leg.

"You - you sure?"

"You are being a noble idiot, and I cannot move. Why would I not be sure?" Ulquiorra snapped. Cedric's face split into a large grin. "You're on," he said. "Come here." He grabbed Ulquiorra's arm below the shoulder and helped Ulquiorra limp toward the plinth where the cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held a hand out over one of the cup's gleaming handles. "On three." said Ulquiorra. "One - two - three -"

"NO!"

A jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup as it pulled him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric and Grimmjow at his side.

* * *

"Where are we?" Ulquiorra said, and Grimmjow hauled him to his feet on onto his back, muttering, "Weak dumbass." Ulquiorra stared and Cedric gaped openmouthed. "W-What the hell?" Ulquiorra couldn't blame him. Grimmjow's hair was once again electric blue, waist length, and flowing. The markings around his eyes enlarged and extended to the tips of his ears, which had become cat-like. There was a sort of a headgear on his forehead and he wore a form-fitting white segmented armor, similar to his original Adjuchas-Hollow form. He has blades protruding from his forearms and his calves and his teeth become jagged and sharp. His hands had also turned into black claws and his feet become black clawed paws, similar to that of a cat, along with a slender whip-like tail.

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra traded glances. "Uh...transfomation spell." Grimmjow said. "Yeah...it's good for combat." Cedric stared and Grimmjow huffed. "It's the way the French work." Cedric blinked and cocked his head disbelievingly. "Really?"

"Hey, who know more about the French? Me or the English guy?"

"..."

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left and Ulquiorra could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside. "Wow...I never thought I'd ever go to a place creepier than Las Noches." Grimmjow said casually. Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Ulquiorra. "Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked. "No," said Ulquiorra "I doubt this is part of the task."

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," They pulled out their wands. Well, Ulquiorra and Cedric did. Grimmjow was carrying Ulquiorra and already in ass kicker Pantera mode. Ulquiorra had the strange feeling that they were being watched.

"What are you doing here with us anyway, Jaggerjaques?"

"Uh...yeah...I kinda...felt some bad vibes so..."

"...You were following me in the maze...were you not?"

"...Yeah, little bit. I didn't help you though!"

"...I am aware. You knew it was a Portkey."

"When you got to it. It smelled like one, I was about to warn you...and pretty boy-"

"Hey!" Cedric interjected indignantly, looking around cautiously.

"-but then you grabbed it. I barely made it to come with you morons to keep you both from dying."

"Someone's coming," Ulquiorra said suddenly. Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Ulquiorra couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. Ulquiorra saw that the thing in the persons arms looked like a baby… or was it merely a bundle of robes? Grimmjow hissed threateningly. "Whatever it's carrying is evil. It smells fuckin' rancid. It ain't normal."

Ulquiorra's head exploded with pain when the figure came six feet in front of them. He closed his eyes and dropped his wand. "Cedric..." he gritted. "Run."

"What?"

"Kill the Hufflepuff." came the familiar high cold voice.

"RUN!" Grimmjow roared, pushing him towards the cup, also moving towards it, Ulquiorra on his back.

"Avada Kedavra!" Ulquiorra felt Grimmjow lurch sideways and he saw bright green light flash through his closed eyes. Something fell and hit the ground.

"...Shit..." Grimmjow breathed. The pain ebbing slightly, Ulquiorra opened his eyes.

Cedric Diggory was dead.

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow grunted as they were unexpectedly slammed into a large marble headstone that read:

TOM RIDDLE

"Damn." Ulquiorra breathed, and as the hooded man fingered with the thick cords was tying him and Grimmjow to the headstone, Ulquiorra saw his face.

"Peter Pettigrew."

"You mean the guy-!"

"Yes." The blades on Grimmjow's arms were cutting through the rope quickly and the high cold voice spoke into the darkness. "Imperize him, but keep him alive...I have never seen magic like this..."

"What? Come and face me, you bast-!"

"Imperio!" Ulquiorra turned weakly and saw Grimmjow slump against the headstone with a blank expression, no longer resisting or moving. He stared ahead dully, eyes half closed, his body completely limp. The only reason Ulquiorra knew he wasn't dead was that his chest moved rhythmically as he breathed deeply, like he was sleeping. Ulquiorra turned to Wormtail. "You bas-ack!" Wormtail shoved rough black material into Ulquiorra's mouth and as Ulquiorra tried to struggle he found that he couln't move an inch.

* * *

A stone cauldron was pushed to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water, Ulquiorra could hear it slopping around the stone, and it was a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in. The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. A large snake, the one from his dreams, slithered away into the darkness. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast and the surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. The high, cold voice sounded again. "Hurry!"

"It is ready Master."

"Now." said the cold voice. Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Ulquiorra's eyes widened to the point where they nearly took up half his face. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Ulquiorra had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face was flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. The thing seemed almost helpless and it raised its thin arms, put them around Wormtail's neck, and Wormtail lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Ulquiorra saw the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface. Ulquiorra heard its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

_Let it drown...Let it die..._

_**God, this is sick.**_

_Let it **die...**_

Wormtail's voice shook and he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" The surface of the grave at Ulquirra's feet cracked. Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air along with a long white human bone at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue. And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master." Ulquiorra stared in horror. _No...no..._

_**Revive his master? Is going to bring Voldemort back?**_

Ulquiorra didn't flinch or look away when Wormtail swung the blade up and sliced his already damged hand off cleanly. Ulquiorra watched as Wormtail fell to the ground, panting, blood pumping from the stump of his arm, and heard a soft splash and the cauldron's contents turned burning red. Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Ulquiorra watched as Wormatil staggered toward him and felt Wormtail's anguished breath on his face.

"B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe." Ulquiorra was tied too tightly. Struggling hopelessly at the ropes binding him, he saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtails remaining hand. He felt its point penetrate the crook of his right arm and saw dark scarlet blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Ulquiora's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it. He staggered back to the cauldron with the blood and poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness.

_Die..._Ulquiorra moaned in his head. _Let it have died...drowned...be dead..._

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Ulquiorra, so that he couldn't see Wormtail or Cedric or even Grimmjow…  
He saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and thin like a skeleton, rising slowly from inside the cauldron. "Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing, and still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, reached up, and pulled them onehanded over his master's head. The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Ulquiorra… and Ulquiorra stared back into the face that killed his parents...that nearly killed him...that had nearly killed Ginny...who's memory set a monster upon school children...

Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils…

Lord Voldemort had returned.

* * *

"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it… and now, we shall see… now we shall know…" He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand of the Dark Mark on Wormtail's arm. The scar on Ulquiorra's forehead seared with a sharp pain again, but he did not look away, or give Voldemort the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. Wormtail let out a fresh howl and Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark. It had turned jet black. A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?" He began to pace up and down before Ulquiorra and Wormtail, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at Ulquiorra again, who's eyes glittered with hate, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face. "You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool… very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child… and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death…" Voldemort laughed again. "You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was… He didn't like magic, my father…He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage… but I vowed to find him… I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name… Tom Riddle…" Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave. "Listen to me, reliving family history…" he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental… But look, Harry! My true family returns…"

Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward… slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort and kissed the hem of his black robes. Ulquiorra stared on, disgust coursing through his being and his eyes shinning with repulsion. They waited on him like dogs...it was repugant. Even the lowest Arrancar's had more dignity than this under Aizen's command...under the sweet illusion that they were his dear soliders...that they were his children...

* * *

"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?" Ulquiorra snorted behind his gag, and the Death Eaters stirred uneasily. "And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort… perhaps they now pay allegiance to another… perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?" At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them. "It is a disappointment to me… I confess myself disappointed…" One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet. "Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!" Ulquiorra stared at the Death Eater coldly, and if anyone to look they would see a look of derision and deadened amusement. _You interrupted...that was a mistake..._Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand. "Crucio!"

As the tortured screams split the air, Ulquiorra could only wonder if this was what Grimmjow had felt towards Ulquiorra's former leader and father...hate, disgust, fear, and resentment.

* * *

"Yes," said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Ulquiorra and Grimmjow's direction. "Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor." There was a silence. Then the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke from under the mask. "Master, we crave to know… we beg you to tell us… how you have achieved this… this miracle… how you managed to return to us…"

"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius," said Voldemort. "And it begins - and ends – with my young friend here." He walked lazily over to stand next to Ulquiorra, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. The snake continued to circle. "You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Ulquiorra, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that he was becoming pale and sweat made his hair stick to his forehead. "You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him – and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen… I could not touch the boy." Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Ulquiorra's cheek. "His mother left upon him the traces other sacrifice… This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it… but no matter. I can touch him now." A long cold finger touched Ulquiorra's cheek, and Murciélago hissed.

_**Stay away!**_

Voldemort drew back. Ulquiorra did not know it, but his irises had, for just a moment, burned poisonous gold and his sclera glowed darkest green.

* * *

"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost… but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know… I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked… for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself… for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand…I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist… I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited… Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me… but I waited in vain…" The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing.

"Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. I sometimes inhabited animals - snakes, of course, being my preference - but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic… and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long…Then… four years ago… the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard - young, foolish, and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of… for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school… he was easy to bend to my will… he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted… thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter…" Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra felt movement next to him as Grimmjow stirred lightly. "The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been," Voldemort continued. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't then fear that I might never regain my powers…I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess… and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me…" One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice. "And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last… a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends, and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumored I was hiding… helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them…But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food… and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic. Wormtail brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams… for - with a little persuasion - she became a veritable mine of information. She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. The means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her." Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless.

"Wormtail's body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth… a spell or two of my own invention… a little help from my dear Nagini," Voldemorts red eyes fell upon the continually circling snake, "a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided… I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel. There was no hope of stealing the Sorcerer's Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strength. I knew that to achieve this - it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight - I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant…My father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe… Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me… as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potters blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago… for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too… But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. Not even I can touch him there… Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup… I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt kidnap in the midst of a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him? Why… by using Bertha Jorkins's information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament - that he touched the Triwizard Cup first - the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is… the boy you all believed had been my downfall…" Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Ulquiorra, who had sat there, listening carefully to Voldemort's tale. Voldemort raised his wand.

"Crucio!" Pain. His entire body, his veins, his bones felt as if they had burst into flame. His blood boiled...he could hear Murciélago scream in rage...

And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter. Voldemort smirked down at him. "Once again...you surprise me. You did not scream, like I thought you would." He turned to his Death Eaters. "You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini," he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where Grimmjow was sitting limply, head hanging.

"Ah, yes. In my moment of triumph I had forgotten you." Voldemort said softly. "Release our second guest, Wormtail." Wormtail did, his new silver hand from Voldemort slicing through Grimmjow's ropes. Grimmjow continued to sit.

"Stand up." Grimmjow stood up obediently, and it unnerved Ulquiorra to see Grimmjow follow orders so quietly. Voldemort swept over to Grimmjow curiously, and the Death Eaters stared at the Panther King.

* * *

"What is you name?" Grimmjow twitched and mumbled something. Voldemort's eyes grew a little colder. "Speak louder and look at me." He ordered and Grimmjow's head snapped up. There was spark in his eyes...

"...Leroy." He said simply and strained. He was fighting to not give his full name away...nor to give his true name. Voldemort smiled cruelly. "Leroy...I believe that means 'The King'. ...A glorious name." Grimmjow glared, and his head twitched. "What are you?"

"Wizard." Grimmjow grunted and Ulquiorra could see that he was gaining more and more control by the minute.

"I see...what kind of magic do you use, Leroy?" Voldemort asked softly, examining the long blue hair, and the sharp claws. Grimmjow jerked, stumbling back, blinking. Then he smirked and Ulquiorra nearly sighed in relief. He was back.

"Like I'm going to tell the failed Octava experiment." Grimmjow scoffed, grinning at the fury on Voldemort's face. "Sorry. Not that good at listening to orders." His tail was whipping back and forth eagerly, and he flexed his claws.

"You dare to defy Lord Voldemort?" The enraged wizard shrieked and Grimmjow looked at him with a deadpan face.

"Uh, duh."

"Crucio!" The cauldron that Grimmjow was standing in front of was blasted back and collided with several gravestones, who blasted apart in a explosion of stone and dirt. Grimmjow had vanished. Ulquiorra felt claws cut into his ropes, and he spread his arms apart and the ropes fell uselessly. Grimmjow pulled him roughly up and grinned confidently. "Yo!" He called, drawing the attention of Voldemort and his followers. "You lookin' for little old me?" Grimmjow laughed, loud, strong and slighlty psychotic. "You think you can kill me? I'm the King!" He disappeared again, but Ulquiorra could see. Could see as he appeared in front of a Death Eater, and shot his hand through their stomach. Not completely impaling the man, but the Death Eater's hood fell and Grimmjow tore off his mask to display Lucius Malfoy coughing blood. Grimmjow laughed at the shock on everyone's face then flung out the hand still in Malfoy's stomach and tossed him aside like a ragdoll. He turned back to the shocked Voldemort. "You're lucky! I still don't quite feel like killing you, yet." He laughed again. "Yo! Emospada! You want him?" Ulquiorra stared from shadowed eyes.

"Yes."

"Give me Kurosaki, and I'll give you this guy!"

"...Fine."

* * *

"Stay out of our battle, Leroy." Ulquiorra ordered softly, taking care to only use Grimmjow's first name, since it would be best if Voldemort did not know his full identity, gently grasping his wand. "We will do this with wands." He spoke to both Voldemort and Grimmjow this time. "I will fight him this way...It would not be fair to him otherwise." Ulquiorra continued smirking at the wild range of emotion on Voldemort's face. Rage, shock, loathing, determination...Voldemort wanted to kill him so badly it was almost a little flattering.

"You have been taught how to duel Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness. "We bow to each other. Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed… Dumbledore would like you to show manners… Bow to death, Harry…" Ulquiorra stood, with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his wand. Ulquiorra bowed, bringing his wand arm to horizontally face his chest in a mocking bow. "I bow to your impending defeat. Your fear of death is truly amusing." Ulquiorra said into the night, silencing the jeering Death Eaters.

It was on.

* * *

Ulquiorra's body ached from the pain of the Cruciatus Curse as he stared at Voldemort impassively, showing no pain, no fear, no emotion. "Once again, you do not scream." Voldemort commented softly. "Why scream to someone who cannot hear?" Ulquiorra asked philosophically. Voldemort frowned softly. "Oh? Do you want me to do that again, Harry?" Ulquiorra didn't answer. That was beneath him.

"Answer me! Imperio!" The strange bliss the Imperius Curse brought had returned, and Ulquiorra felt floating and light.

_Say no...say no..._

_**And stoop to his level?**_

_Say... …say … no..._

_**SLAP!**_

Ulquiorra jolted to reality thanks to Murciélago's mental bitch slap and said, "Answering such a pointless question is for fools like your pathetic followers." Ulquiorra watched with unseen satisfaction as Voldemort was once again overcome with anger.

"Harry, obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die… Perhaps another little dose of pain?" Ulquiorra dove behind a gravestone as the curse missed him and hit Tom Riddle Sr.'s headstone. Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow, who had seemingly vanished during the fight, was sitting behind it waiting for Ulquiorra to finish his fight. Grimmjow turned to Ulquiorra. "Done yet?"

"This battle...will end in a draw." Grimmjow choked. "Seriously?"

"I could easily kill him, true." Ulquiorra agreed. "But it will not destroy him." Grimmjow fell silent. "...So he's kinda like Aizen since he _never fucking __**dies.**_"

"Yes. Took the Shinigami trash long enough."

"Tell me about it."

"We cannot let everyone at Hogwarts know you were with me. Cast a Disillusionment Charm on yourself and be prepared to run to the cup. We must touch it-"

"-at the same time. Got'cha."

* * *

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," said Voldemort's soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry… come out and play, then… it will be quick… it might even be painless… I would not know… I have never died…"

Ulquiorra stood fludily and stepped out from behind the gravestone. He raised his wand.

"Expelliarmus." How he wished Avada Kedavra would be effective on this freak but since it wasn't...

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light issued from Voldemorts wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Ulquiorra's. They met in midair, and suddenly Ulquiorra's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to - and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. Taking his other hand out of his pocket, he made a large sweeping gesture, hoping that Grimmjow would know to back off and then grasped his wand with both hands. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort's father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves… The Death Eaters were shouting, reforming the circle around Ulquiorra and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing their wands – The golden thread connecting Ulquiorra and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Ulquiorra and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like canines, their cries muffled now…

"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Ulquiorra saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Ulquiorra's. Ulquiorra, just to screw with Voldemort's head, held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken.

* * *

Voldemorts wand began to emit echoing screams of pain… then, Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock, a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished… the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail… more shouts of pain… and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemorts wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solid, dense smoke… It was a head… now a chest and arms… the torso of Cedric Diggory. If ever Ulquiorra might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but he kept clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel… and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke. "Hold on. Harry," it said.

"Will do."

* * *

More screams of pain from the wand… and then something else emerged from its tip… the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso… the old man Ulquiorra had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done… and his ghost, or his shadow fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Ulquiorra and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick… "He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did… You fight him, boy…"

* * *

The shadow of Bertha Jorkins surveyed the battle before her with wide eyes.

"Don't let go, now!" she cried, and her voice echoed like Cedrics as though from very far away. "Don't let him get you, Harry - don't let go!"

_Does it look like I am? _Ulquiorra thought.

* * *

The smoky shadow of a tall man with untidy hair fell to the ground as the rest had done, straightened up, and looked at him and Ulquiorra, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his father. "Your mother's coming…" he said quietly. "She wants to see you… it will be all right… hold on…"

"...Father..."

* * *

And she came. First her head, then her body, a young woman with long hair. The smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like her husband. She walked close to Ulquiorra, who was starring with wide eyes, and looked down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear.

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments… but we will give you time… you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts… do you understand, Harry?"

"Yes. ...Mother..." Ulquiorra gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers. "Harry…" whispered the figure of Cedric and Ulquiorra snapped to him, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents…"

"I will," said Ulquiorra breathlessly. "Do it now," whispered his father's voice, "be ready to run… do it now…"

"Now." Ulquiorra yanked his arms away and broke the connection and ran, knocking Death Eaters aside as the shadows of Voldemort's victims blocked his view. He dodged headstones, and sprinted towards Cedric's body.

"Stun him!"

"Impedimenta!" He randomly shot the curse behind his back and heard a strangled yell.

"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!"

He reached Cedric's body, grabbed his wrist...

Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. Ulquiorra saw his mouth maliciously curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand...

"Accio!" Grimmjow's voice spoke out next to him, he felt his hand grab his shoulder. The cup zoomed out towards them and an invisible hand grabbed the cub out of the air tightly. Ulquiorra heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked. It was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, along with Cedric and Grimmjow…

They were going back.

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow slammed into the ground, the Twiwizard cup coming out of Grimmjow's grip and bouncing along on the grass. Ulquiorra didn't feel like moving, so he merely turned his head to Grimmjow's reiatsu and whispered, "Get out of here." He heard movement as Grimmjow dashed off and he knew that Grimmjow sealed Pantera from the decrease in energy surrounding his form. Ulquiorra returned his head to his original position and waited for chaos.

* * *

A torrent of sound. There were voices everywhere, footsteps, and screams… He remained where he was, his face screwed up against the noise, breathing in the scent of the grass. Then a pair of hands seized him roughly and turned him over.

"Harry! Harry!" He opened his eyes. He was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus Dumbledore was crouched over him. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer. He had come back to the edge of the maze, and he could see the stands rising above him, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above. He raised his free hand and seized Dumbledore's wrist. "He is back," Ulquiorra murmured. "He is back. Voldemort."

"What's going on? What's happened?" The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Ulquiorra; it looked white, scandalized. "My God - Diggory!" it whispered. "Dumbledore - he's dead!" The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them… and then others shouted it, screeched it, the yells ringing out in the night.

"He's dead!"

"He's dead!"

"Cedric Diggory! Dead!"

* * *

"Drink it… you'll feel better… come on, now. Harry, I need to know exactly what happened…" Moody helped tip the stuff down Ulquiorra's throat; he coughed, a peppery taste burning his throat. Moody's office came into sharper focus, and so did Moody himself… He looked as white as Fudge had looked, and both eyes were fixed unblinkingly upon Ulquiorra's face. "Voldemort's back, Harry? You're sure he's back? How did he do it?"

"He took things from his father's grave, and from Wormtail, and me," said Ulquiorra. His head felt clearer; his scar wasn't hurting so badly; he could now see Moodys face distinctly, even though the office was dark. He could still hear screaming and shouting from the distant Quidditch field.

"What did the Dark Lord take from you?" said Moody. Ulquiorra frowned. _The Dark Lord?_

"...Only Death Eaters call him that." Ulquiorra said slowly as realization dawned. "...You are the one. The Death Eater at Hogwarts."

Moody laughed harshly, drawing his wand and pointing it at Ulquiorra. "You were a lot smarter then I anticipated, Harry." Moody said quietly, eyes fixed on Ulquiorra. "Much, much smarter."

"You put my name in the Goblet of Fire."

"He forgave them, then?" he said. "The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?"

"Does it matter?" Ulquiorra asked quietly. Moody looked deranged. "Yes! Those treacherous cowards who wouldn't even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky."

"You-"

"If there's one thing I hate more than any other, it's a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me he hurt them, Harry…" Moody's face was suddenly lit with an insane smile. "Tell me he told them that I, I alone remained faithful… prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all…"

"Who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the name of a different school? I did. Who frightened off every person I thought might try to hurt you or prevent you from winning the tournament? I did. Who nudged Hagrid into showing you the dragons? I did." Moody's magical eye had now left the door. It was fixed upon Ulquiorra, which was good. If someone came, he would be caught off guard. His lopsided mouth leered more widely than ever. "It hasn't been easy, Harry, guiding you through these tasks without arousing suspicion. I have had to use every ounce of cunning I possess, so that my hand would not be detectable in your success. Dumbledore would have been very suspicious if you had managed everything too easily. As long as you got into that maze, preferably with a decent head start - then, I knew, I would have a chance of getting rid of the other champions and leaving your way clear. The second task… that was when I was most afraid we would fail. I was keeping watch on you, Potter. I was watching all the time… all those hours in the library. Didn't you realize that the book you needed was in your dormitory all along? I planted it there early on, I gave it to the Longbottom boy. Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It would have told you all you needed to know about gillyweed. I expected you to ask everyone and anyone you could for help. Longbottom would have told you in an instant. But you did not… You have a streak of pride and independence that might have ruined all." _Well, pride and independence is a bit of a unofficial requirement for Espada._

_**That's kinda sad.**_

"So what could I do? Feed you information from another innocent source. I overheard a house-elf called Dobby had given you a Christmas present. I called the elf to the staffroom to collect some robes for cleaning. I staged a loud conversation with Professor McGonagall about the hostages who had been taken, and that I thought Potter should use gillyweed. And your little elf friend ran straight to Snape's office and then hurried to find you…" Ulquiorra was amused. Moody, or whoever the hell this guy was, thought Dobby gave him the gillyweed, not Grimmjow. Moody's wand was still pointing directly at Ulquiorra's heart. Over his shoulder, foggy shapes were moving in the Foe-Glass, the magical items that detected enemies, on the wall. _Hmmm..._

"You were so long in that lake, Potter, I thought you had drowned. But luckily, Dumbledore took your idiocy for nobility, and marked you high for it. I breathed again. You had an easier time of it than you should have in that maze tonight, of course," said Moody. "I was patrolling around it, able to see through the outer hedges, able to curse many obstacles out of your way. I Stunned Fleur Delacour as she passed. I put the Imperius Curse on Krum, so that he would finish Diggory and leave your path to the cup clear."

The foggy shapes in the Foe-Glass were sharpening, had become more distinct. Ulquiorra could see the outlines of three people over Moody's shoulder, moving closer and closer. Moody's enemies were Ulquiorra's allies. But Moody wasn't watching them. "The Dark Lord didn't manage to kill you Potter, and he so wanted to," whispered Moody. "Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I gave you to him - the thing he needed above all to regenerate - and then I killed you for him. I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter… closer than a son…" The door was barred, and Ulquiorra knew he would never reach his own wand in time. "The Dark Lord and I," said Moody, and he looked completely insane now, towering over Ulquirra, leering down at him, "have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers… very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure… the very great pleasure… of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!"

Ulquiorra, saw a fourth shape appear rapidly in the Foe Glass. He played his 'Harry' act to stall for time. "You are mad!"

"Mad, am I?" said Moody, his voice rising uncontrollably. "We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him - and now - I conquer you!" Moody raised his wand, and he opened his mouth...

"Expelliarmus!" Grimmjow appeared out of no where, kicking the door down, and Moody's wand flew out of his hand. Ulquiorra glanced at the Foe Glass. "Jaggerjaques, duck!" Grimmjow did and three stunners flew over his head into Moody who was blasted back into the office wall. Grimmjow whistled at the damgae the three teachers casued. "Nice." he stepped into the room over the door that he had broke off it's hinges. The three teachers followed and Ulquiorra stared at Dumbledore's face.

_**Damn, he looks **__**pissed.**_

_Extremely._

_

* * *

_

"Polyjuice Potion, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair…" Dumbledore looked down on the Moody in the trunk. "The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequendy as he should have done… on the hour… every hour… We shall see." Dumbledore, Grimmjow, and Ulquiorra stared at Moody intently and minutes passed in tense silence until face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled gray hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away towards Grimmjow, who yelled out, across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

Barty Crouch Jr.

* * *

Dumbledore forced the mans mouth open and poured three drops of the truth potion that Snape had threatened Ulquiorra with inside it. Then he pointed his wand at the mans chest and said, "Ennervate." Crouch's son opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that their faces were level. "Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked quietly. The man's eyelids flickered. "Yes," he muttered. "I would like you to tell us," said Dumbledore softly, "how you came to be here. How did you escape from Azkaban?" Crouch took a deep, shuddering breath, then began to speak in a flat, expressionless voice.

"My mother saved me. She knew she was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother's hairs. She took a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my hairs. We took on each other's appearance." Crouch sighed.

"The dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors. My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name and bearing my appearance." The man's eyelids flickered. "And what did your father do with you, when he had got you home?" said Dumbledore quietly. "Staged my mother's death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I had recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master… of returning to his service."

"How did your father subdue you?" said Dumbledore. "The Imperius Curse," Moody said. "I was under my fathers control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behavior."

"Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?" said Dumbledore softly. "Did anyone know except your father and the house-elf?"

"Yes," said Crouch, his eyelids flickering again. "A witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house with papers for my father s signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. He said it damaged her memory permanently." Ulquiorra noted that Crouch spoke dully and robotically and in very short blunt sentences.

"Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup," said Dumbledore.

"Winky talked my father into it," said Crouch, still in the same monotonous voice. "She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. Let him go, she said. He will be in his Invisibility Cloak. She said my mother would have wanted it. She told my father that my mother had died to give me freedom. He agreed in the end. It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know. But Winky didn't know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father's Imperius Curse. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed outside his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw, in front of me, a wand sticking out of a boys pocket. I had not been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. Winky didn't know. Winky is frightened of heights. She had her face hidden." Ulquiorra twitched in anger. That was _his_ wand the bastard stole.

"So you took the wand," said Dumbledore, "and what did you do with it?"

"We went back to the tent," said Crouch. "Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They were not enslaved, as I was. They were free to seek him, but they did not. They were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent; he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky. Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned. When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had been found and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me home. He dismissed Winky. She had let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me escape.""Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then… and then…" Crouch's head rolled on his neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. "My master came for me. He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the old Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I had escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant. My master conceived a plan. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door." The smile spread wider over Crouch's face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. "It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years.

"And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?" said Dumbledore.

"He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first -"

"You needed Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm. "Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the potion. I drank it; I became Moody's double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set off the dustbins. Then I packed up Moody's clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole boom-slang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it." Ulquiorra sensed Snape twitch angrily.

"And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?" said Dumbledore. "Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father's house, and to keep watch over my father."

"But your father escaped," said Dumbledore. "Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban. My master sent me word of my father's escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything."

"Map?" said Dumbledore quickly. "What map is this?" Ulquiorra felt some guilt seep in at the mention of his map.

"Potter's map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape's office one night. He thought I was my father. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape. For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I Stunned Krum. I killed my father."

"You killed your father," Dumbledore said, in the same soft voice. "What did you do with the body?"

"Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come. Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father's body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father's body. He became a bone… I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin." There was complete silence. Then Dumbledore said, "And tonight…"

"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," whispered Barty Crouch. "Turned it into a Portkey. My master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards." Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Grimmjow, and Ulquiorra stared at the insane boy as he finally lapsed into silence.

* * *

Dumbledore gave Snape and McGonagall their instructions and turned to Ulquiorra. "Harry, I need you to come to my office." Ulquiorra blinked. "Fine." Ulquiorra and Grimmjow began to follow when Dumbledore held up a hand. "Just Harry..."

"Leroy." Dumbledore smiled.

"Yes, Leroy. While I greatly appreciate your help, I insist on talking to Harry alone." Grimmjow scowled. "Che. Whatever." Dumbledore peered at him over his spectacles, eyes twinkling curiously. "How did you know that Harry would be in danger, anyway?" Grimmjow avoided his eyes.

"Instinct, I guess."

"Ah." Dumbledore's tone said that he knew there was more to that, but thankfully he did not press the subject.

* * *

Ulquiorra looked up at Dumbledore, now sitting in his office with Sirius, on whose face there was an inactive look. "Priori Incantatem," he muttered. "The Reverse Spell effect?" said Sirius sharply.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "Harry's wand and Voldemorts wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact," he added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, that was perching peacefully on Ulquiorra's knee. "My wand's feather came from Fawkes?" Ulquiorra said, amazed. "Yes," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago."

"So what happens when a wand meets its brother?" said Sirius.

"They will not work properly against each other," said Dumbledore. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle… a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed - in reverse. The most recent first… and then those which preceded it…" He looked interrogatively at Ulquiorra, who nodded. "Which means," said Dumbledore slowly, his eyes upon Harry's face, "that some form of Cedric must have reappeared." Ulquiorra nodded again. "Diggory came back to life?" said Sirius sharply. "No spell can reawaken the dead," said Dumbledore heavily. "All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand… am I correct, Harry?"

"Yes...Cedric, an old Muggle man, Bertha Jorkins...and Mother and Father." Ulquiorra said quietly, and Sirius, who had been gripping Ulquiorra's shoulder, was now squeezing it so hard that it was painful.

* * *

When Dumbledore pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing, Ulquiorra saw Grimmjow, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They all appeared (except Grimmjow) to be demanding to know where Ulquiorra was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as Ulquiorra, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream. "Harry! Oh Harry!" She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them. "Molly," he said, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he added, looking around at Grimmjow, Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Grimmjow, Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, "may I ask what -?"

"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while," said Dumbledore simply. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry - I will wait while you get into bed."

* * *

"I am all right," he told them. "Just tired." Mrs. Weasleys eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bed-covers unnecessarily. Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet. "You'll need to drink all of this. Harry," she said. "It's a potion for dreamless sleep." Ulquiorra took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. He felt himself becoming drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy and his body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the mattress. Before he could even finish the potion, his exhaustion had carried him off to sleep.

* * *

He heard whispering around him. "They'll wake him if they don't shut up!"

"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?"

"For the love of all things holy, will they just shut up!"

Ulquiorra opened his eyes blearily and noted that someone had removed his glasses. He could see the fuzzy outlines of Mrs. Weasley and Bill close by and Mrs. Weasley was on her feet. "That's Fudge's voice," she whispered. "And that's McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?" Now Ulquiorra could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital wing. "Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva -" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly. "You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out -" The hospital doors burst open. Unnoticed by any of the people around his bed, all of whom were staring at the door as Bill pulled back the screens, Ulquiorra sat up and put his glasses back on. Fudge came striding up the ward with Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels. "Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley. "He's not here," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing. Minister, don't you think you'd do better to -" But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward. "What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you - I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -"

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!" Ulquiorra had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and a hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury. It was rather interesting. "When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape, in a low voice; he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. "He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch - The moment that - that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and - and -"

Ulquiorra felt a chill run through him. The Dementors Kiss. Grimmjow gagged. "The Kiss? What's wrong with you you sick bastard?" Fudge rounded on him furiously, but before he could speak Grimmjow cut in, "I'm not from you country. You can't do anything to me, and my family is too high class in the French wizarding world." Fudge looked murderous. Ulquiorra was impressed with Grimmjow's cunning AKA slight threat/blackmail.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths."

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "Those peoples deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. Voldemort has been restored to his body." Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore. "You-Know-Who… returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…"

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," said Dumbledore, "Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort - learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins - went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

"Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders - but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…"

"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office." Dumbledore glanced around at Ulquiorra and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight." Fudge's curious smile lingered. He too glanced at Ulquiorra, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?" There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling who's hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge. "Certainly, I believe Harry," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now with angry flames. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer." Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Ulquiorra before answering. "You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who… well…" Fudge shot him another look, and Ulquiorra suddenly understood. "You have been reading Rita Skeeter." he said quietly. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped and Grimmjow hissed, like a agitated cat, at Fudge. None of them but Grimmjow had realized that Ulquiorra was awake. Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and stubborn look came over his face. "And if I have?" he said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place -"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly - hallucinations?"

Ulquiorra sighed. He listened as Dumbledore attempted to convince the fool of the truth, but the man was stubborn, and refused to see reason.

"Forget it, Professor." Ulquiorra said clearly. "Arguing with a blind fool is beneath you." He turned to Fudge. "Power has corrupted you," He proclaimed softly, "and has blinded you. You nothing but a fool, nothing but worthless trash. You will regret not taking the Professor's advice, Minister. It will be your greatest loss, when your government and people turn against you. You cannot hide in your little world forever, Minister." Ulquiorra continued tranquilly, to the point where it was slightly menacing. "Reality will consume you, tear down the walls you have built, and drag you down into a endless despair that you will never come back from." Silence, then Fudge spluttered. "Are you threatening me?" Ulquiorra inclined his head. "No. The truth, however, does. All I do is merely speak it."

* * *

"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Ulquiorra's bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…" Fudge glared at Ulquiorra, and Ulquiorra stared back calmly. "Thank you, Minister."

* * *

After sending Bill, McGonagall, and Madame Pomfrey on certain tasks, Dumbledore turned to Grimmjow. "Leroy, I am more thankful to you then you could ever know." Dumbledore said, his head inclined. "But I must ask you to leave and return to the Beauxbatons carriage." Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"There are certain things I must disscuss with the people closest to Harry." Ulquiorra and Grimmjow met each others eyes, and they decided. However repulsive it was...how much they differed, or grated on each others nerves, or their different principles...they knew what had happened.

Grimmjow, somehow, had become one of the people closest to Ulquiorra.

They had become -shudder- _friends._

Grimmjow turned away from Ulquiorra, looking a little disturbed from the revelation, and said, "All right. What's up?"

"Leroy-"

"I ain't leaving." Grimmjow drawled lazily, sitting on an unoccupied bed. "You can talk freely. Hell, the dog can even turn back. I don't really care." Silence. Dumbledore looked at Grimmjow sharply.

"You know about-"

"Yeah. Stupid dog." Grimmjow added, glaring at it, and Sirius glared right back and turned back into a man, still glaring at Grimmjow. Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

"Sirius Black!" she shrieked, pointing at him. Sirius continued to glare at Grimmjow. "Priss." Sirius growled.

"Straggly mutt."

"Conceited prat."

"Dogbreath." Grimmjow shot back smugly and Sirius fumed. Dumbledore and Snape glanced between them. Dumbledore was uncertain and amused, Snape was confused and furious. Ron and Hermione were desperately trying to calm Mrs. Weasely down.

"Have you two met before?" Dumbledore asked lightly and Sirius stopped glaring at Grimmjow to look at Dumbledore. "Yeah. Harry brought him with Ron and Hermione to see me in Hogsmeade. He knows everything." Dumbledore nodded and turned to Grimmjow. "You will not inform anyone of this?" Grimmjow snorted. "Can't. That jackass," he nodded to Ulquoirra, "will tell if I do."

"...Tell what?"

"The Incident that Never Happened." Ulquiorra and Grimmjow said in unison, glaring at one another. They all stared at the unlikely pair.

"...I see..." He really didn't.

* * *

" Harry - take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later." Ulquiorra leaned back against his pillows as Dumbledore disappeared. Grimmjow, Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley were all looking at him. None of them spoke for a very long time. "You've got to take the rest of your potion Harry," Mrs. Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabinet as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while… think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"

"I do not want that gold," said Ulquiorra in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I do not care." Ulquiorra was surprised when Mrs. Weasley hugged him, like he was being hugged by a mother. The moment was interupted with a loud slamming noise, and Mrs. Weasley and Ulquiorra broke apart, Ulquiorra still confused about the entire hug. Hermione was standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Your potion, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Ulquiorra drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous and heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more.

* * *

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened - of Lord Voldemorts return - such ties are more important than ever before." Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and Grimmjow and their fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table.

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemorts gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. It is my belief that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst. Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, a kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

* * *

"'Arry!" He looked around. Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off. "We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," said Fleur as she reached him, holding out her hand. "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."

"It's very good already," said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him and Hermione scowled. "Good-bye, 'Arry," said Fleur, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!" Grimmjow passed her as she flounced happily to the carriage and approached Ulquiorra. "So." He said.

"So." Ulquiorra replied. They stared at each other before Grimmjow grinned that familiar twisted grin. "Don't think I'll be gone for long." Grimmjow smirked. "This was my last year at school. I'll be back to save your ass in no time. After all," Grimmjow called over his shoulder as he sauntered back to the carriage in his silk school robes, "you're where all the action is!"

* * *

"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," said Ron. "D' you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"

"Karkaroff did not steer," said a gruff voice. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork." Krum had come to say good-bye to Hermione. "Could I have a vord?" he asked her. "Oh… yes… all right," said Hermione, looking slightly flustered, and following Krum through the crowd and out of sight. "You'd better hurry up!" Ron called loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!" He let Ulquirra keep a watch for the carriages, however, and spent the next few minutes craning his neck over the crowd to try and see what Krum and Hermione might be up to. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. _Love. How it make humans act like such idiots._ Murciélago decided not to mention that as an Espada, he also like like an idiot when he fell in love with the woman. Krum and Hermione returned quite soon. Ron stared at Hermione, but her face was quite impassive. "I liked Diggory," said Krum abruptly to Harry. "He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang - with Karkaroff," he added, scowling.

"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" said Ulquiorra and Krum shrugged and held out his hand. Ulquiorra shook it, then Krum shook Ron's, who seemed to be having a great internal battle. Finally, he burst out, "Can I have your autograph?" Hermione and Ulquiorra turned away, smirking as Krum signed a fragment of parchment for Ron, surprised and gratified.

* * *

"Rita Skeeter," Hermiones voice trembled with quiet triumph, "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn -" Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out other bag. "- into a beetle."

"You're kidding," said Ron. "You haven't… she's not…"

"Oh yes she is," said Hermione happily, brandishing the jar at them. Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle. "That's never - you're kidding -" Ron whispered, lifting the jar to his eyes. "No, I'm not," said Hermione, beaming. "I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears." Ulquiorra looked and saw that she was quite right and he also remembered something. "There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mother."

"Exactly," said Hermione. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She's been buzzing around for stories all year. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid." Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass. "I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," said Hermione. "I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."

* * *

"Are you going to tell us why you've been acting so odd lately?" Ron asked to Fred and George, who the entire year had been acting secretive and talking in corners, whispering about letters and blackmail.

"Oh," said George darkly. "That."

"It doesn't matter," said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," said George, shrugging. But Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione kept on asking, and finally, Fred said, "All right, all right, if you really want to know… it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman?" said Ulquiorra sharply. "Are you saying he was involved in -"

"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?" said Ron. Fred hesitated, then said, "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah," said Ron slowly. "Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots." Ulquiorra understood. _Ah._

"So?" Ron asked confused.

"So," said Fred impatiently, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"Leprachaun gold vanishes within a few hours." Ulquiorra reminded Ron, who had learned this from Hagrid during a Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

"But - it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione. George laughed very bitterly.

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back," said George glowering.

"He refused?" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!" said Ron. "

Tell me about it," said George. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" asked Ulquiorra. "He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So that is why he kept trying to help me win." said Ulquiorra. "Well, I did win. So he can pay you your gold."

"Nope," said George, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

* * *

"Fred - George - wait a moment." Ulquiorra called as soon as Ron and Hermoine left the compartment. The twins turned and Ulquiorra pulled open his trunk and drew out his Triwizard winnings. "Take it," he said, and he tossed the sack into George's hands, who caught it, completely stunned.

"What?" said Fred, looking flabbergasted.

"Take it," Ulquiorra repeated firmly, closing his trunk. "I do not want it."

"You're mental," said George, trying to push it back at Ulquiorra. "No, I am not," said Ulquiorra. "You take it, and get inventing. It is for the joke shop." Ulquiorra usually didn't like jokes, but the twins were rather genius, and it would be a shame to waste it. Plus, the things they created were wonderfully entertaining.

"He is mental," Fred said in an almost awed voice.

"If you do not take it, I am throwing it down the drain. I do not want it and I do not need it." said Ulquiorra firmly.

"Harry," said George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here."

"Yes," said said Ulquiorra, smirking. "Think how many Ton Tongue Toffees that is." The twins stared at him. "Do not tell your mother where you got it, although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore."

"Harry," Fred began, but Ulquiorra pulled out his wand. "Look," he said flatly, "take it, or I will hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor. Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they are from you. That article of clothing is absolutely life scarring."

* * *

Uncle Vernon was waiting beyond the barrier and Mrs. Weasley was close by him. She hugged Ulquiorra very tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, "I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer. Keep in touch, Harry."

"See you. Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the back.

"Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek. "Harry - thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side. Ulquiorra nodded, and muttered too low for anyone else to hear, "Remember dress robes." The twins grinned and Ulquiorra nodded, following Vernon out of the station.

He was at war with his greatest enemy, the world was in danger, and the society's core was being shaken and tested with every passing minute.

...Well, what else was new?

**A/N: See? A LOT of explanatory dialogue.**

**Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdu et ont besoin de la trouver. =**** Where is Madame Maxime? ****We are lost and need to find her**

**Désolé. Je n'ai pas vu Madame Maxine soit. = Sorry. I have not seen Madame Maxine is.**

**Etes-vous amis?**"** = Are you friends?**

**Aucun. = No**

**Merci= Thank You**

**The Incident that Never Happened= See my other story Experiments**

**Review! There will be no contest since I think that the reason this is the Lust is pretty obvious.  
**


	6. Year 5: Wrath

**A/N: Sup! It's been awhile! Hope you guys are having a good holiday!**

**The Wrath is very, very, very, very (this goes on for some time) long. So long, that it's split into two parts! Gasp! Also, Ulquiorra is going through typical teenage rebellion, and will occasionally use contractions! That, and the author realized that his character normally used contractions in the manga. So, in this world, he has outgrown the vaguely childish need to never use contractions.  
**

**Enjoy! I don't own Harry Potter or Bleach.**

**_Year 5: The Wrath_  
**

Cool puffs of air ghosted from Ulquiorra's lips as he drowned in the chilling cold and blackness in the previously scorching summer evening. Could it be that they were here? But that was impossible...

"W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!"

"I am not doing anything. Silence yourself and don't move!"

"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I -"

"I told you to be silent!" Ulquiorra's sense sharpened, and he stared around blankly, only seeing black. Cold squeezed his skin in a mocking cruel grip, and his muscles were taunt. Could the dementors have turned? Had Voldemort already recruited them into his ranks? He would hear them, before he saw them. And then he heard it. Deep shuddering breath that drew in the happiness and life, that evoked despair and destruction. Shit.

"C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"

"Dudley, don't—" WHAM! Ulquiorra was stumbled back from the unexpected punch and his wand clattered out of his clammy hands. Ulquiorra dropped to the ground, feeling for his wand, hearing the frantic footsteps of his foolish human cousin. "Dudley, stop! You are running straight towards it!" The footsteps stopped, and choked gasping followed along with a chill behind Ulquiorra. There was more than one. "Don't open your mouth!" Ulquiorra commanded. "My wand...Lumos." His wand tip ignited a few feet next to him brightly and Ulquiorra scooped up the vital weapon and whirled around to face the dementor as it glided towards him, it's rotting greenish gray hands stretched for his throat. "Expecto patronum." A silvery wisp of vapor shot from the tip of the wand and the Dementor slowed, but the spell hadn't worked properly. Too much oppression, too much frustration, too much wrath...

"Expecto patronum!" Another wispy and even weaker stream of silver smoke slid out his wand. There was cold laughter...was it Voldemort? Aizen? High screams of fear, animalistic roars, and Ulquiorra's own mocking voice.

_We're quite busy but I can't give you details here… There's a fair amount going on, we'll tell you everything when we see you… _

_Keep your nose clean and everything will be okay… Be careful and don't do anything rash… _

_Guard Las Noches, Ulquiorra. Protect it with your life._

_Follow orders, keep your nose clean. _Ulquiorra was swallowed in the despair that threatened to overcome him. A obedient little pet. A toy that was put on the high shelf for safe keeping. Was that all he was to them? Was he that worthless...?

_Nothing's been going on. _

Ulquiorra stumbled out of the dementors reach. That's right...he was informed...he wasn't _totally_ clueless...

_Voldie's been laying low. Gathering forces, maybe. Keep an eye out, though. Muggle news and shit. They're total morons, but if something big goes down they'll know._

I'm not weak...

_Later Emospada._

I was the Quarto...An Espada...

_The King_

"Expecto patronum." Murciélago soared, wielding her deadly lance. Conquering the first dementor, she turned and pointed to the one attacking Dudley, head cocked inquisitively.

_Should I...? _Ulquiorra jerked a thumb in the direction of the struggling human. Murciélago leaped forward and attacked, slicing the dementor with her weapon. The dementors fled, cloaks billowing as they glided away and vanished. The sky, as if being turned on by a switch, flicked back to life, the stars glittering overhead. A warm breeze blew gently. Ulquiorra approached Dudley and bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up when he heard loud, running footsteps behind him. Instinctively raising his wand again, he span on his heel to face the newcomer. Mrs. Figg, their, as Ulquiorra long ago deduced, slightly crazy old neighbor, came panting into sight. Her grizzled gray hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Ulquiorra made to slip his wand hurriedly out of sight.

"Don't put it away idiot boy!" she shrieked. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!" Ulquiorra blinked wide eyes.

_.**..Huh?**_

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra's head swum as he lugged his cousin down Privet Drive to number 4 along side Mrs. Figg. A squib, apparently. Living on the street to keep an eye on him since he was a child. "...when Dumbledore hears about this - how could Mundungus have left, he was supposed to be on duty until midnight - where is he? How am I going to tell Dumbledore what's happened?" Ulquiorra remained quiet through the frantic ramblings of the distressed woman. And he kept quiet when the scraggly man in the tattered overcoat appeared out of the air with a loud crack, and Mrs. Figg began to hit him with her cat food filled purse.

...Ouch.

* * *

Ulquiorra deftly caught the dropped letter, not paying the owl any heed as it soared back out the window. "OWLS!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, the well-worn vein in his temple pulsing angrily as he slammed the kitchen window shut after the authoritative owl swooped in for Ulquiorra. "OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN MY HOUSE!" Ulquiorra was too busy staring at the doomsday letter, feeling his world crash.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle. The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand. As you have already received an official warning for a previous offense under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August. _

_Hoping you are well, _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Mafalda Hopkirk _

_Improper Use of Magic Office _

_Ministry of Magic _

_

* * *

_

"And why have you been expelled?"

"Because I did magic."

"AHA!" roared Uncle Vernon, slamming his fist down on top of the fridge, which sprang open. "So you admit it! What did you do to Dudley?"

"Nothing," said Ulquiorra, feeling irritation prick his skin. "That was not me -"

"Was," muttered Dudley unexpectedly, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia instantly made flapping gestures at Ulquiorra to quieten him while they both bent low over Dudley. "Go on, son," said Uncle Vernon, "what did he do?"

"Tell us, darling," whispered Aunt Petunia.

"Pointed his wand at me," Dudley mumbled.

"Of course, you wouldn't be quiet-"

"SHUT UP!" roared Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia in unison. "Go on, son," repeated Uncle Vernon, mustache blowing about furiously. "All went dark," Dudley said hoarsely, shuddering. "Everything dark. And then I h-heard… things. Inside m-my head." Ulquiorra was reasonably and understandably pissed off, so he took some sick amusement at the horrified stares his Aunt and Uncle exchanged at the sound of Dudley _maybe _possessing some abnormality.

* * *

"Felt… felt… felt… as if… as if…"

"As if you'd never be happy again," Ulquiorra supplied dully, frustrated that no one would listen to him. "Yes," Dudley whispered, still trembling. "So!" said Uncle Vernon, voice restored to full and appreciable volume as he straightened up. "You put some crackpot spell on my son so he'd hear voices and believe he was - was doomed to misery, or something, did you?" Ulquiorra felt a vein twitch in his temple.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" said Ulquiorra, temper and voice both rising in a bout of pent of anger and hormones. "It wasn't me! It was a couple of Dementors!"

"A couple of - what's this codswallop?"

"De - men - tors," said Ulquiorra slowly and clearly like his Uncle was retarded. "Two of them."

"And what the ruddy hell are Dementors?"

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban," said Aunt Petunia.

There were seconds of loud silence before Aunt Petunia clapped her hand over her mouth as though she had let slip a disgusting swear word. Uncle Vernon was goggling at her. Ulquiorra's brain reeled and he stared with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth. Mrs. Figg was one thing, sure it was bizarre beyond all reason, but Aunt Petunia? The fuck?

"How do you know that?" he asked her, astonished. Aunt Petunia looked quite appalled with herself. She glanced at Uncle Vernon in fearful apology, then lowered her hand slightly "I heard that awful boy telling her about _them_ - years ago," she said jerkily. "They have names." Ulquiorra pointed out, but Aunt Petunia ignored him and she seemed horribly flustered.

* * *

_Dear Mr. Potter, _

_Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August, at which time an official decision will be taken. Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further inquiries. _

_With best wishes, _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Mafalda Hopkirk _

_Improper Use of Magic Office Ministry of Magic _

A hearing. A _chance._ Ulquiorra had never been so grateful.

* * *

A fifth owl zoomed down the chimney, since all windows were sealed, so fast it actually hit the floor before zooming into the air again with a loud screech. Ulquiorra raised his hand to seize the letter, which was in a scarlet envelope, but it soared straight over his head, flying directly at Aunt Petunia, who let out a scream and ducked, her arms over her face. The owl dropped the red envelope on her head, turned, and flew straight back up the chimney. Ulquiorra's eyes darted forwards to the letter, but Aunt Petunia quickly picked it up and shielded the address from his view . "You can open it if you like," said Ulquiorra coldly, "but I will hear what it says anyway. That's a Howler."

"Let go of it, Petunia!" roared Uncle Vernon. "Don't touch it, it could be dangerous!"

"It's addressed to me," said Aunt Petunia in a shaking voice. "It's addressed to me, Vernon, look!  
Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Kitchen, Number Four, Privet Drive –" She caught her breath, horrified. The red envelope had begun to smoke. "Open it." Ulquoirra said softly. Petunia shook her head frantically, eyes darting to see if there was a place to dispose of the letter or a possible escape route.

"Open it!" Ulquiorra commanded, more harshly. As though the Howler heard Ulquiorra, it burst into flames in Petunia's grasp, who screamed and dropped it.

"_**REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA?"**_

There was a awkward and tense silence as the remainder of the red screaming message crumpled to ash. _Her last? Does that mean she has been contacted by wizards before?_

_**If so, holy Aizen!**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," said a low, growling voice. Ulquiorra knew that voice well, but instead of lowering his wand, he raised it higher. "Who are you?" He asked sharply to Alastor Moody. Or at least to someone who _looked _like Alastor Moody. He had been fooled once by a Moody imposter. He would not be again. Moody looked approving. "Good. Constant Vigilance, you've got Potter." Ulquiorra's grip tightened. But before he could make a decision about whether or not to hex the ex-Auror, a second, slightly hoarse voice floated upstairs. "It's all right, Harry. We've come to take you away." Ulquiorra blinked. "Professor Lupin?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" said a third voice, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman's. "Lumos." A wand-tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Ulquiorra blinked. People at the foot of the stairs were gazing up at him intently, some craning their heads for a better look. Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill and he had more gray hairs than the last time Ulquiorra had seen him. His robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at the baffled teen wizard. "Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft. She looked the youngest there; she had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. "Wotcher, Harry!"

* * *

"This is Alastor Moody, Harry." Lupin continued, pointing towards Moody and Ulquiorra glared at Moody, who glared right back. "A pleasure." Ulquiorra said curtly, fingering his wand. Moody grunted.

* * *

"And this is Nymphadora -"

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," said the young witch with a shudder, "it's Tonks."

"Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," finished Lupin. "So would you if your fool of a mother had called you Nymphadora," muttered Tonks. Ulquiorra kicked up an eyebrow. "What an unusual name." Tonks sighed.

* * *

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt." He indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed. Ulquiorra liked the look of him. Calm, intelligent, strong. He radiated a strong mellow vibe much like Stark. Deceivingly strong under a cool face.

* * *

"You know, I don't think violet's really my color," Tonks said pensively, tugging at a lock of spiky hair while looking in Ulquiorra's mirror. "D'you think it makes me look a bit peaky?"

"I don't think I can say." said Ulquiorra, who was stacking his books into his trunk neatly. "Yeah, it does," said Tonks decisively. She screwed up her eyes in a strained expression as though she was struggling to remember something and a second later, her hair had turned a Szayel bubblegum pink. "How did you do that?" said Ulquiorra marveled at her as she opened her eyes again. "I'm a Metamorphmagus," she said, looking back at her reflection and turning her head so that she could see her hair from all directions. "It means I can change my appearance at will." Ulquiorra was impressed. This woman was obviously a complete klutz, and had a odd sense of humor but she was still very awe-inspiring. "Brilliant." Ulquiorra commented, closing his trunk with a snap.

"So, shall we go?"

* * *

The Headquarters was disgusting. Cobwebs hung from the chandeliers, painting were blackened with age, peeling faded wallpaper, and Ulquiorra could hear many creatures scuttling about out of sight. Ulquiorra reluctantly put his hand on the serpent head doorknob and pushed the creaking door open. At least this room was remotely clean, though rather gloomy. Ulquiorra noted the twin beds, and straightened when he heard a loud twitter and a girlish shriek. He turned and his vision and mouth was overcome with big brown bushy hair. Ulquiorra coughed.

"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless - but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us - the Dementors! When we heard - and that Ministry hearing - it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations -"

"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron chuckled as he entered the door behind her at a more sedate pace. He appeared to have grown even taller, looking even more gangly and awkward then ever.

* * *

Ulquiorra didn't yell a lot. He didn't like yelling, for it seemed pointless. But sometimes, every once in awhile, it just sorta slipped out when the fury and wrath became too much.

And if Ulquiorra were to tell the truth, it actually felt really good. No wonder Grimmjow did it so much.

"SO YOU HAVE NOT BEEN IN THE MEETINGS! WELL, YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, CORRECT? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER, WHILE I HAVE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO HAVE EVER MANAGED PUT TOGETHER - WHO SAVED THE SORCERER'S STONE? WHO GOT SLAYED THE BASILISK? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR LIVES FROM A SWARM OF DEMENTORS?" Ron was gaping, and Hermione looked as though she was going to cry. But screw them, Ulquiorra was on a roll. "WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER RIDICULOUS THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW VOLDEMORT RETURN? I HAD TO FIGHT HIM, WHEN YOU HAVE NEVER EVEN SEEN HIM! BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING? AFTER ALL, I AM ONLY THE LONE SOUL TO EVER DEFEAT THE DAMN FUCKER!" Ron gaped even more hearing Ulquiorra swear. I mean, Wow.

"Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did -" Hermione began, but seriously, screw her. "YOU CANNOT HAVE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, OR YOU WOULD HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE _MADE_ YOU _**SWEAR–"**_

"Well, he did -"

"FOUR WEEKS I HAVE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, STEALING PAPERS OUT OF BINS LIKE TRASH TO TRY TO FIND OUT WHAT HAS BEEN GOING ON -"

"We wanted to -"

"AND MY SO CALLED _**FRIENDS **_DO NOT EVEN ATTEMPT TO TELL ME ANYTHING! SOMETHING SHORT OR SIMPLE WOULD HAVE SUFFICED! A 'VOLDEMORT HASN'T MADE HIS MOVE YET' WOULD HAVE BEEN PERFECTLY FINE -"

"Harry we're really sorry!" said Hermione desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. "You're absolutely right, Harry - I'd be furious if it was me!" Ulquiorra glared and turned away sharply to the window and fumed, furious his friends and with himself. How could he have lost so much _control_? How pathetic. "What is this place?" Ulquiorra asked in a bitter tone with all his anger and frustration put into it. He really hated the universe right now. He really, _really_ did.

"Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," said Ron at once. Ulquiorra turned to glare at him. "Which is-?"

"It's a secret society," said Hermione quickly. "Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time."

"Who is in it?" Ulquiorra inquired, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Quite a few people -"

"We've met about twenty of them," said Ron, "but we think there are more."

"What about Voldemort?" Ulquiorra asked, shooting Ron an irritated glance when Ron flinched. Seriously, it's a fucking _name._ Suck it up!

"The Order doesn't let us in on their meetings," said Hermione nervously. "So we don't know the details - but we've got a general idea," she added hastily, seeing the look on Ulquiorra's face, which spelled out murder. "Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see," said Ron. "They're really useful." Ulquiorra eyebrow kicked it's heels up in confusion. "Extendable -?"

"Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realized what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know -"

"Some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order -" said Hermione.

"And some of them are standing guard over something," said Ron. "They're always talking about guard duty." Ulquiorra stared at Ron silently. Pointed at himself. Ron's face clicked.

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, with a look of dawning comprehension. Ulquiorra paced the room again, looking anywhere but at Ron and Hermione. "So, what have you two been doing, if you're not allowed in meetings?" he demanded. "You said you had been busy"'

"We have," said Hermione quickly. "We've been decontaminating this house, it's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo-"

CRACK! The grinning Weasely twins appeared from nowhere in the middle of the room. "Hello, Harry," said George, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, also beaming. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you." Ulquiorra glared. "Passed the test, I see."

* * *

"Bill is here?" Ulquiorra asked about the oldest Weasely sibling. "I thought he was working in Egypt?"

"He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order," said Fred. "He says he misses the tombs, but;" he smirked, "there are compensations."

"Excuse me?"

"Remember old Fleur Delacour?" said George. "She's got a job at Gringotts to eempwve 'er Eeenglish -"

"And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons," sniggered Fred. Ulquiorra snorted. "Of course. She seemed rather interested during the tournament." Fred and George grinned widely. "Charlie's in the Order, too," said George, "but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off." _Foreign wizards..._

"Could Percy not do that?" Ulquiorra asked, remembering the third Weasley brother was working in the Department of International Magical Co-operation at the Ministry of Magic. The twins and Ron and Hermione exchanged dark looks. "Don't mention Percy in front of Mum or Dad." Ron advised Ulquiorra tensely.

"Why?"

"Well..."

* * *

"Percy and Dad had a row," said Fred. "I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts."

"It was the first week back after term ended," said Ron. "We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."

"Really?" said Ulquiorra, having a feeling about where this was going. The fool always was drunk with power. "Yeah, we were all surprised," said George, "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain."

"So how come they promoted him?"

"That's exactly what we wondered," said Ron, keen on the conversation now that Ulquiorra had released some stress and killer fury. "He came home really pleased with himself - even more pleased than usual, if you can imagine that - and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts: Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think."

"Only Dad wasn't," said Fred grimly. "Because?" said Ulquiorra. "Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore," said George. Ulquiorra blinked.

_**...Oh.**_

_Indeed._

"Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see," said Fred. "They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."

"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks," said George. "Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession."

"So your father thinks that Fudge wants Percy to be the Ministry's spy on the family and Order?" They nodded. "Bingo. He went completely berserk. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been - you know - not had a lot of money, I mean -"

"What?" said Ulquiorra in disbelief, as Ginny, who had come in some time earlier made a noise like an angry cat. "I know," said Ron in a low voice. "And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he - Percy - knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family any more. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."

_**...What a douche.**_

_Extremely._

_

* * *

_

"Percy takes the Daily Prophet seriously," said Hermione tartly, and the others all nodded. Ulquiorra blanked. "Excuse me?" They were all regarding him warily.

"Haven't - haven't you been getting the Daily Prophet!" Hermione asked nervously.

"Of course I have." said Ulquiorra. "Have you - er - been reading it thoroughly?" Hermione asked, still more anxiously. Ulquiorra's lips turned downward lightly. "Not particularly."

"Er...well, about that..."

* * *

"Well, they're writing about you as though you're this deluded, attention-seeking person who thinks he's a great tragic hero or something," said Hermione this very quickly, as though the speed of her speech would shield Ulquiorra's 'feelings'. "They keep slipping in snide comments about you. If some far-fetched story appears, they say something like, 'tale worthy of Harry Potter', and if anyone has a funny accident or anything it's, 'lets hope he hasn't got a scar on his forehead or we'll be asked to worship him next -'" Ulquiorra's right eye twitched.

_...**Oh no they didn't. **_The sassy phrase was accompanied by clicking claws, which, Ulquiorra could rightfully assume, were snapping in a indignant Z formation.

_...-twitch-_

_

* * *

_

"Who is Kreacher?" Ulquiorra asked breaking the awkward and angry silence. Their previous and recent mention of Dumbledore made his skin tingle with irritation and anger. It was best that Ulquiorra change the subject. "The house-elf who lives here," said Ron. "Nutter. Never met one like him." Hermione frowned at Ron.

"He's not a nutter Ron."

The two bickered about S.P.E.W, which Ulquiorra tuned out expertly.

But, as Ulquiorra would soon learn, that yes, Kreacher was indeed a nutter.

* * *

Ulquiorra heard the loud crash and the chastising Molly Weasely as Tonks apologized frantically for knocking down a hideous umbrella stand when he stealthily made his way to the kitchen under Mrs. Weasely's instruction. Moth eaten curtains opened and Ulquiorra's face slid into a face of comical confusion and repulsion. The window-like painting was of a old woman with yellowing skin, rolling eyes and drooling mouth. Then she began to shriek shrilly, causing all the other paintings in the area to scream too. Which really didn't help at all since...well...

_**SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DAMN PAINTING! DON'T MAKE ME COME OUT THERE!**_

* * *

"But what is a portrait of your mother doing here?" Ulquiorra asked as they went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind them.

"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," said Sirius. "But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters - about the only useful thing I've been able to do." Ulquiorra noted how hard and bitter Sirius's voice sounded. Understandable, he was a criminal of the highest caliber on the run, so he must not be able to do much. He followed his godfather to the bottom of the steps and through a door leading into the basement kitchen. It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of them, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr. Weasley and his eldest son Bill were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

It looked pretty depressing. And a bit like the Las Noches meeting room.

Ulquiorra jolted terribly when he spotted the bright pink of Tonks' hair. For a second, he though it was Szayel.

Ugh.

* * *

"Not just yet, Molly" said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Ulquiorra. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort." Ulquiorra straightened. "I did immediately, but Ron and Hermione said that they were not allowed in order meetings-"

"And they're quite right," said Mrs. Weasley. "You're too young." She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched on its arms, every trace of after dinner drowsiness gone.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" asked Sirius. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen—"

"Hang on!" interrupted George loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George. "'You're too young, you're not in the Order'," said Fred in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly, "that's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand -"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?" Ulquiorra sank into his seat. This was embarrassing and all he wanted was to disappear. Maybe he should just rely on Grimmjow for information. Ulquiorra sighed.

Now that was just _sad._

* * *

"He's not an adult either!" said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. "He's not James, Sirius!" Ulquiorra blanched. _Oh crap._

_**This is going to be **_**ugly****_. Uglier than _Arrogante_, which is something I didn't think was possible._**

…

Well, at least Murciélago knew how to break the ice of total awkwardness. Of course, this was by bringing up a different, but still awkward, subject.

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," said Sirius coldly.

"I'm not sure you are!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!" Ulquiorra was torn between disbelief since he sounded absolutely NOTHING like James Potter...

_One Generation Ago..._

"_So Evans," The seemingly suave teenage James said, grinning cheekily, "wanna go out with me sometime? I **am** the Qudditch team Captain." The bookish teenage Lily didn't even look up from her essay. _

"_When Hell freezes over Potter."_

_Several weeks ago..._

_Ulquiorra dug a paper out of the trash and skimmed through the larger articles. Nothing of wizard interest, as usual, but..._

"_'New stem cell research leads to advances in heart surgery procedures'? How truly fascinating..."_

...and being extremely flattered, because, well, his father sounded pretty badass from what he had heard.

Months later, Ulquiorra Schiffer would learn that while his father was badass and cool in his adult years, as a teen, he was, to put it kindly, a douche.

* * *

"What is Voldemort doing?" Ulquiorra asked, ignoring the shudders accompanied by the name. "There have been no unusual deaths-"

"That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet," said Sirius, "not as far as we know, anyway… and we know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," said Lupin. Ulquiorra's brows furrowed in thought and confusion. "Why has he not been killing people?" He asked the Order, "It seems a bit out of character."

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself," said Sirius. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," said Lupin, with a satisfied smile.

"I was not supposed to survive." Ulquiorra said. Sirius beamed. "Exactly!" said Sirius. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," said Lupin. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?" Ulquiorra asked. Voldemort was one powerful bastard, one man's knowledge of his existence should not be so damaging. "Are you kidding?" said Bill incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!" _That is a little pathetic..._

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," said Sirius.

"So, what has the Order been doing?"

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," said Sirius.

"How do you know what his plans are?" Ulquiorra asked, a tad suspicious. Because, honestly, how _did _they know?

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea,' said Lupin, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate." _...So you are basically guessing his plans from Dumbledore's theories? Also a little sad._

"So what does Dumbledore think he is planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," said Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," said Lupin.

"The main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," said Bill. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Is the Ministry causing difficulties?"

"You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know- Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why?" Ulquiorra angrily demanded. "Why is he being so foolish? If Dumbledore -"

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," said Mr. Weasley with a wry smile. "Dumbledore."

"Fudge is frightened of him, you see," said Tonks sadly.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" said Ulquiorra in a deadpan voice. "_Seriously?"_

"Frightened of what he's up to," said Mr. Weasley. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister for Magic."

"..._Seriously?_"

"He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job." said Mr. Weasley.

"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is - a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," said Lupin. "But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"...As Jaggerjaques would say, 'What a fucking dumbass'" Ulquiorra mused and Sirius scowled at the mention of the French wizard. "I HATE that guy." Sirius muttered.

"Many do. What does Voldemort want besides followers?" Ulquiorra asked, changing the subject quickly. Because, you know, he _totally_ wasn't in contact with his arch rival, whom he had tried to kill and was attempted to be killed by (multiple times), and who hated Sirius (and was hated in return), as well as being a foreign bastard. Nope, not at all. Ahem.

"Stuff he can only get by stealth." When Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow, Sirius said, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" said Ulquiorra curiously and with slight wariness. _Please say it's not a wizard version of the hogyoku. Please say it's not a wizard version of the hogyoku._ "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra -?"

"That's enough!"

* * *

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards," Lupin said. "Wizards who have left school," he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you… I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough." Ulquiorra sighed and stood up with the rest, recognizing defeat.

Still, the indignity of it all.

I mean, have any of these '_overage_ _wizards_' faced Super Hollow Ichigo 2.0 and survived? Ulquiorra didn't think so.

Then again, neither did Ulquiorra, but he fought that bastard _and_ died with poise and dignity.

Not to mention with all his limbs intact.

* * *

"What do you suppose it is?" said Ulquiorra thoughtfully, gazing up at the damp and depressing ceiling.

"Could be anything," said Fred.

"But there can't be anything worse than the Avada Kedavra Curse, can there?" said Ron. "What's worse than death?" _Well, there's becoming a Hollow._

_**Aizen.**_

_Becoming an Arrancar._

_**And Aizen.**_

_Falling in combat to pathetic trash on Hollow steroids, knowing that the woman you love is going to run into his arms now that you're not there to kick the annoying bastard away._

_**Let's not forget Aizen.**_

_And of course, there's the __**worst**__ possible thing._

_**...Being stuck in a storage closet with Grimmjow and Ichimaru?**_

_That __**was**__ The Living Hell within the living hell._

_**Eh. At least Shinso's knows some cool magic tricks. Not to mention he had a Xbox.**_

"Maybe it's something that can kill loads of people at once," suggested George.

"Maybe it's some particularly painful way of killing people," said Ron fearfully.

"Perhaps it's a device that will meld our beings with savage cannibalistic demons, which will make us crave the souls and flesh of our fellow humans, but will leave us with enough willpower not to give in to our animalistic urges and taste the sweet, glorious relief of humanity's warm blood; Thus, we will feel burning searing agony during every second of every minute of every day, wishing that someone will just run a sword through our dead hearts, ending our excruciating painful and meaningless existence." Ron, Fred, and George stared at him cluelessly and horrified with wide glazed eyes and gaping open mouths.

"...Hypothetically."

* * *

"What are Skiving Snackboxes?"

"Range of sweets to make you ill," George whispered, keeping a wary eye on Mrs. Weasley's back. "Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. They're double-ended, color-coded chews. If you eat the orange half of the Puking Pastilles, you throw up. Moment you've been rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing, you swallow the purple half –"

"-which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue the leisure activity of your own choice during an hour that would otherwise have been devoted to unprofitable boredom. That's what we're putting in the adverts, anyway," whispered Fred, who had edged over out of Mrs. Weasley's line of vision and was now sweeping a few stray Doxys from the floor and adding them to his pocket. "But they still need a bit of work. At the moment our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping puking long enough to swallow the purple end." Ulquiorra kicked up a eyebrow with a barely there amused smirk.

"Testers?"

"Us," said Fred. "We take it in turns. George did the Fainting Fancies - we both tried the Nosebleed Nougat -"

"I do hope the joke shop is still in progress and that you just aren't doing this to scam first years at Hogwarts?" Ulquiorra muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray. "Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet," said Fred, dropping his voice even lower as Mrs. Weasley mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, "so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week."

"All thanks to you, mate," said George. "But don't worry… Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet any more, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Dumbledore."

* * *

Ulquiorra was too busy staring at the names to the right of Andromeda's burn mark. A double line of gold embroidery linked Narcissa Black with Lucius Malfoy and a single vertical gold line from their names led to the name Draco. "You're related to the Malfoys."

"The pure-blood families are all interrelated," said Sirius. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage and Arthur's something like my second cousin once removed. But there's no point looking for them on here - if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's the Weasleys." Ulquiorra's eyes skimmed over the tapestry curiously, ignoring Murciélago disturbed chatter.

_**They're ALL related? Haven't they learned anything from history? King Charles II of Spain? Charles Darwin's daughter? Do these poor bastards not ring ANY bells?**_

_...I don't think it's the same thing..._

Ulquiorra noted the Bellatrix Black, married off to Rodolphus Lestrange. "Ah...So you are related to the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius?"

"As far as I'm concerned, they're not my family. She's certainly not my family. I haven't seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?"

"Do not get your panties in a twist, _Padfoot_." Ulquiorra quipped back, still intent on the tapestry. Satisfied with Sirius stunned and dog-like bark of laughter, he turned back to his godfather.

_Hmmm...No Jaggerjaques._

* * *

Ulquiorra examined the heavy golden locket warily. Power radiated from it; something dark and sinister. It was a reistu he knew as well as the woman's and his own.

Voldemort.

Casting a look around, the covered the mysterious locket in his previously protective mouth cover scarf and pocketed it secretly.

He would grateful that he did later.

* * *

Striding into the kitchen early in the morning, Ulquiorra could not completely hide his displeasure with the entire morning. Ulquiorra hated mornings, preferring the familiar darkness and silence of the night. That combined with the trademark teenage aversion to the early morning light, the approaching hearing and the T shirt and jeans he was wearing, Ulquiorra was NOT in good mood.

He liked dress shirts and, oddly enough, cargo pants (nice slim black ones). Sue him.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the throne like chair in the center of the courtroom. If the chains, clinking dangerously, were not there, the chair would seem majestic and inviting. Well, Ulquiorra would do this with dignity and thus he strode gracefully over to the chair and regally sat down, crossing his legs loftily. The chains moved and Ulquiorra twitched his foot. The chains, somehow sensing a dangerous adversary, ceased their movement. Ulquiorra raised his head to the front.

There were about fifty of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left-hand side of the chest and all staring down their noses at him, some with very austere expressions, others looks of frank curiosity. In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. A broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair sat on Fudge's left, and she wore a monocle, but of instead of looking absolutely ridiculous, she managed to look quite forbidding. On Fudge's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow. "Very well," said Fudge. "The accused being present - finally - let us begin."

* * *

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey..." Sensing that the following was just inductory chit-chat, Ulquiorra leaned back in the caging chair, his hands still in his pockets. He blew a strand of hair out of his eyes when-

"Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Ulquiorra. Dumbledore was striding serenely across the room wearing long midnight-blue robes and a perfectly calm expression. The members of the Wizengamot were muttering. All eyes were now on Dumbledore. Strong feelings rose rapidly in Ulquiorra's chest, which, even after 15 years of existence, was rather strange. Hope, anger, and curiosity boiled in his heart.

Hope and anger would dueling rather splendidly, and Hope currently had the upper hand.

He wanted to catch Dumbledore's eye, but Dumbledore was not looking his way; he was continuing to look up at the obviously flustered Fudge. "Ah," said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. "Dumbledore. Yes. You - er - got our – er - message that the time and -er - place of the hearing had been changed, then?"

"I must have missed it," said Dumbledore cheerfully…"However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done." _...Of course, Dumbledore. Of course._

"Yes - well - I suppose we'll need another chair - I - Weasley, could you -?" "Not to worry, not to worry," said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and a squashy chintz armchair appeared out of nowhere next to Ulquiorra.

..._**You've GOT to learn how to do that.**_

…

Dumbledore sat down, put the tips of his long fingers together and surveyed Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest. The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down. "Yes," said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. "Well, then. So. The charges. Yes."

* * *

"You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?"

"Yes," Ulquiorra said.

"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"

"Yes, but -"

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge.

"Yes," said Ulquiorra, "but -"

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but -"

"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?" Ulquiorra grit his teeth. Murciélago's tail swished impatiently.

"Yes, but -"

"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?"

"Yes," said Ulquiorra calmly, though his viridian eyes flamed irritably, "but I only used it because we were -" The witch with the monocle cut across him in a booming voice. "You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?"

"_Yes,"_ said Ulquiorra, glad someone finally seemed to be listening to him, "because -"

"A corporeal Patronus?" _...What does that have to do with __**anything?**_"...Yes. A bat. It is always a bat."

_**Phft. More like a Lady Bat Demon of Awesomeness.**_

_..._

"Always?" boomed Madam Bones. "You have produced a Patronus before now?"

"Yes," said Ulquiorra, "I've been doing it for over a year."

"And you are fifteen years old?"

"Yes."

"You learned this at school?"

"Yes, under Professor Lupin's tutelage."

"Impressive," said Madam Bones, staring down at him, "a true Patronus at his age… very impressive indeed."

* * *

"Then," said Dumbledore, quietly but clearly, "we must ask ourselves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of Dementors into that alleyway on the second of August." In the complete silence that greeted these words, the witch to the right of Fudge leaned forwards so that Ulquiorra saw her for the first time.

...It wasn't a pretty sight. He thought she looked just like a large, pale toad. She was rather squat with a broad, flabby face, as little neck as Uncle Vernon and a very wide, slack mouth. Her eyes were large, round and slightly bulging. Even the little black velvet bow perched on top of her short curly hair put him in mind of a large fly she was about to catch on a long sticky tongue.

"The Chair recognizes Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," said Fudge. The witch spoke in a fluttery, girlish, high-pitched voice that took Ulquiorra deducted _had _to be fake, I mean, come on.

"I'm sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor Dumbledore," she said, with a simper that left her big, round eyes as cold as ever. "So silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!" She gave a flimsy little laugh that made the hairs on the back of Ulquiorra's neck stand up. It was just plain creepy.

"If it is true that the Dementors are taking orders only from the Ministry of Magic, and it is also true that two Dementors attacked Harry and his cousin a week ago, then it follows logically that somebody at the Ministry might have ordered the attacks," said Dumbledore politely. "Of course, these particular Dementors may have been outside Ministry control -"

"There are no Dementors outside Ministry control!"

"Then undoubtedly the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two Dementors were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorization."

"It is not for you to decide what the Ministry of Magic does or does not do, Dumbledore!"

"Of course it isn't," said Dumbledore mildly. "I was merely expressing my confidence that this matter will not go uninvestigated."

Ulquiorra glanced back and forth from the arguing wizards mildly. It reminded him of a tennis match of sorts, or a heated battle between two clashing swords. Ulquiorra leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, listening to the rather pointless debate. Dumbledore was totally owning Fudge; the foolish bastard should just give up.

"I would remind everybody that the behavior of these Dementors, if indeed they are not figments of this boy's imagination, is not the subject of this hearing!" said Fudge. "We are here to examine Harry Potter's offences under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!"

"Of course we are," said Dumbledore, "but the presence of Dementors in that alleyway is highly relevant. Clause Seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations which threaten the life of the wizard or witch him - or herself, or any witches, wizards or Muggles present at the time of the -"

"We are familiar with Clause Seven, thank you very much!" snarled Fudge. Ulquiorra suppressed a large and unbecoming yawn.

"Of course you are," said Dumbledore courteously. "Then we are in agreement that Harry's use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances the clause describes?"

"If there were Dementors, which I doubt."

"You have heard it from an eyewitness," Dumbledore interrupted. "If you still doubt her truthfulness, call her back, question her again. I am sure she would not object."

"I - that - not -" blustered Fudge, fiddling with the papers before him. "It's - I want this over with today, Dumbledore!"

"But naturally, you would not care how many times you heard from a witness, if the alternative was a serious miscarriage of justice," said Dumbledore.

"Serious miscarriage, my hat!" said Fudge at the top of his voice. "Have you ever bothered to tot up the number of cock-and-bull stories this boy has come out with, Dumbledore, while trying to cover up his flagrant misuse of magic out of school? I suppose you've forgotten the Hover Charm he used three years ago -" Ulquiorra twitched lazily to attention.

"That was a house elf." Ulquiorra interjected dully, realizing that despite this being his trial, he really wasn't part of the conversation.

"YOU SEE" roared Fudge, gesturing flamboyantly, to Ulquiorra's indignation. "A house-elf! In a Muggle house! I ask you."

"The house-elf in question is currently in the employ of Hogwarts School," said Dumbledore. "I can summon him here in an instant to give evidence if you wish." _**Another point for the Professor.**_

"I - not - I haven't got time to listen to house-elves! Anyway, that's not the only - he blew up his aunt, for God's sake!" Fudge shouted, banging his fist on the judge's bench and upsetting a bottle of ink.

"And you very kindly did not press charges on that occasion, accepting, I presume, that even the best wizards cannot always control their emotions," said Dumbledore calmly, as Fudge attempted to scrub the ink off his notes.

"And I haven't even started on what he gets up to at school."

"But, as the Ministry has no authority to punish Hogwarts students for misdemeanors at school, Harry's behavior there is not relevant to this hearing," said Dumbledore, as politely as ever, but now with a suggestion of coolness behind his words.

"Oho!" said Fudge. "Not our business what he does at school, eh? You think so?"

"The Ministry does not have the power to expel Hogwarts students, Cornelius, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August," said Dumbledore. "Nor does it have the right to confiscate wands until charges have been successfully proven; again, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August. In your admirable haste to ensure that the law is upheld, you appear, inadvertently I am sure, to have overlooked a few laws yourself."_...Seriously? Then why the hell am I here? _

_**Corrupted government system?**_

_Ah, yes._

"Laws can be changed," said Fudge savagely. "Of course they can," said Dumbledore, inclining his head. "And you certainly seem to be making many changes, Cornelius. Why, in the few short weeks since I was asked to leave the Wizengamot, it has already become the practice to hold a full criminal trial to deal with a simple matter of underage magic!"

_**And with Dumbledore currently in the lead, the audience waits with baited breath for Fudge's next move! Is there a chance for a comeback? Will justice prevail? Tune in after the commercial.**_

_...This is uncharacteristic of me, but I must. O.o._

* * *

"Those in favor of clearing the witness of all charges?" said Madam Boness booming voice. Ulquiorra's head tilted upwards. There were hands in the air, many of them… more than half! Then Madam Bones had said, "And those in favor of conviction?" Fudge raised his hand; so did half a dozen others, including the toad witch on his right and the heavily-mustached wizard and the frizzy-haired witch in the second row. Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand. He took two deep breaths and said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, "Very well, very well… cleared of all charges."

_**And that's the game folks. The victory goes to the home team, with the Ministry suffering an all deserving and brutal loss!**_

* * *

"Well, well, well… Patronus Potter," said Lucius Malfoy coolly. Ulquiorra stared back coolly, his glasses glaring at Malfoy with the flash effect.

The flash effect, dear readers, is when the light (whether there is actually any light or not) reflects one of the glasses' lens, creating an ominous and, I'm not going to lie, pretty badass glare to unnerve your enemies. It is commonly used by the Ishida family, and Aizen Sousuke when he still had glasses.

So, while Ulquiorra's glasses were glaring with the flash effect, Ulquiorra's lips quirked into a small smirk, which put both Fudge and Malfoy on edge.

'Cuz it's Ulquiorra. Smirking.

"Hello, Lucius Malfoy." Ulquiorra greeted coolly, the small smirk still tugging his lips. "How is your stomach?"

_T__he Death Eater's hood fell and Grimmjow tore off his mask to display Lucius Malfoy coughing blood._ _Grimmjow laughed at the shock on everyone's face then flung out the hand still in Malfoy's stomach and tossed him aside like a ragdoll. _

Malfoy stiffened and Murciélago snickered. "...That's a strange question, Potter. Why do you ask?" Ulquiorra smirked even wider. "I think you know why. Say hello to _Him_ for me and Leroy, won't you?" Malfoy sneered. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't."

* * *

"What's up with you, Ron?" asked Fred.

Ron did not answer, since was standing very still with his mouth slightly open, gaping at his letter from Hogwarts. "What's the matter?" said Fred impatiently, moving around Ron to look over his shoulder at the parchment. Fred's mouth fell open, too. "Prefect?" he said, staring incredulously at the letter. "Prefect?"

George leapt forwards, seized the envelope in Ron's other hand and turned it upside-down. Ulquiorra saw something scarlet and gold fall into George's palm. "No way," said George in a hushed voice.

"There's been a mistake," said Fred, snatching the letter out of Ron's grasp and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. "No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect." The flabbergasted twins turned to the former Espada.

"We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you!" said George indignantly.

"Winning the Triwizard and everything!" said Fred.

"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him," said George to Fred. Ulquiorra stood there, hands in his pockets, his mind whirling. Ron had been made a prefect? Ron _Weasely?_ Illogical. Completely and absolutely illogical.

"Yeah," said Fred slowly. "Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right." He strode over to Ulquiorra and clapped him on the back while giving Ron a scathing look. "Prefect… ickle Ronnie the Prefect."

"Oh, Mum's going to be revolting," groaned George, thrusting the prefect badge back at Ron as though it might contaminate him. Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, then held it out to Ulquiorra as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Ulquiorra rolled it over in his palm. A large P was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy's chest on his very first day at Hogwarts. His pale fingers ghosted over the large P, feeling the cool metal. The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand. "Did you - did you get -?" She spotted the badge in Ulquiorra's hand and let out a shriek. "I knew it!' she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," said Ulquiorra coolly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."

"It - what?"

"Ron's prefect, not me," Ulquiorra said.

"Ron?" said Hermione, her jaw dropping. "But… are you sure? I mean -" She turned red as Ron looked round at her with a defiant expression on his face.

"It's my name on the letter," he said.

"I…" said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. "I… well… wow! Well done, Ron! That's really -"

"Unexpected," said George, nodding. "No," said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, "no it's not… Ron's done loads of… he's really…" The door behind her opened a little wider and Mrs. Weasley backed into the room carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes. "Ginny said the booklists had come at last," she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to the bed and started sorting the robes into two piles. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing… what color would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," said George, smirking. "Match his what?" said Mrs. Weasley absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks and placing them on Ron's pile.

"His badge," said Fred, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. "His lovely shiny new prefect's badge." Fred's words took a moment to penetrate Mrs. Weasley's preoccupation with pajamas. "His… but… Ron, you're not…?" Ron held up his badge. Mrs. Weasley let out a shriek just like Hermione's. Ulquiorra winced a little at the high frequency.

_**Damn, that woman is high pitched.**_

_Indeed._

_**...Dumbledore probably just doesn't want to-**_

_I have no idea what you're talking about._

_**...Boys.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Ulquiorra leaned against the crumbly wall, his head jumbled. Why had Ron been made a prefect? Ulquiorra was smarter, stronger, and, if previous encounters were any judgment, handsomer. Ulquiorra had forgotten that Prefects were named during their fifth year, and if he had remembered, he certainly wouldn't have expected this as the outcome. Ulquiorra had done infinitely more impressive things than his freckled friend had ever done is his life in the span of just 4 years.

_...This makes no sense._

_**True. You could kick his ass in under 30 seconds, and you're 10 times more responsible. The only reason I can think that Ron became Prefect is because of his confidence issues.**_

…

_**...Oooohhhh.**_

_This makes sense now._

_**...You don't care that he became Prefect and you didn't, do you? You just wanted to now why so the world will make sense again.**_

_...Pretty much._

_

* * *

_

_Grimmjow,_

_ I am currently residing at the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. I would inform you of the address, but due to the circumstances and the threat of interception, I will withhold it. We have been cleaning this house. I was attacked by curtains. Voldemort has not made any active act against us. I will continue my attendance at school on the first of September._

_- "Harry"_

_P.S. Ronald has been made a Prefect. As well as Hermione. She sends her regards._

_Ron just glared at me when I asked him about you._

_

* * *

_

_Bastard,_

_ That was the most formal and **lamest** letter I have ever read. You're human, you don't have to be a emotional retard._

_Nothing's really happened here, Voldie-wise. But I saw a guy with pink hair and glasses the other day._

_I skillfully ran in the opposite direction._

_-The King_

_P.S. How the hell did Weasel get to be in a position of **authority?** He's a frickin' idiot!_

_Say hi to Granger for me._

_And tell the Weasel about how I think he's an frickin' idiot._

* * *

Ulquiorra told Ron of Grimmjow's message.

"FUCKING BASTARD!"

* * *

"There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here —" _...Loony Lovegood?_

_**Must be popular with the guys, ne?**_

Neville, who had joined them in the perilous quest of finding an empty compartment, mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone. "Don't be silly," said Ginny, laughing, "she's all right." She slid the door open and pulled her trunk inside.

"Hi, Luna," said Ginny, "is it okay if we take these seats?" The girl beside the window looked up. She had waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look.

Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow at her odd appearance. He could see why Neville attempted to avoid her. She had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of Butterbeer corks, or that she was reading a magazine upside-down.

Ulquiorra liked her. Her dreamy and cool aloofness reminded him Neliel, the only Espada he actually liked.

* * *

The carriages were now drawn by some weird skeleton Pegasus things.

...Eh. He's seen weirder stuff.

* * *

"Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?" asked Ginny. "What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?"

"I'll be quite glad if he has," said Luna, "he isn't a very good teacher, is he?"

"Yes, he is!" said Ron and Ginny angrily. Ulquiorra coughed guiltily. Hermione cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm… yes… he's very good."

* * *

"She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge."

"Nice cardigan," said Ron, smirking. "She works for Fudge!" Hermione repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"

"...Infiltration?"

"...Geez Harry, paranoid much?"

* * *

"How about: 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about: 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently.

"I'll tell you what it means," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

"...Told you."

"Shut up Harry!"

* * *

"My gran says that's rubbish," piped up Neville. "She says it's the Daily Prophet that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's cancelled-" The closed curtains of an unnoticed extra bed ripped open savagely. Pale aqua eyes glared murderously, the disheveled black hair spiking out wildly, even the part hanging down his neck. "FOR THE LOVE OF AIZEN, SHUT THE HELL UP!" He roared, looking like he wanted to slaughter them all, "I LIKE SLEEPING IN PEACE! IF I HAVE TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD ABOUT VOLDEMORT OR HARRY FUCKING POTTER I WILL _NEJIBANA_ YOUR SORRY ASSES! **GO TO SLEEP!**" Ulquiorra gaped at the enraged teen. Said teen turned to him.

They had a short stare off, but the tired new kid turned back to bed grumpily.

"We'll talk in the morning." Shiba Kaien grumbled in Ulquiorra's direction, yanking the crimson curtains shut with a whirl.

"..."

* * *

Ulquiorra didn't know much about Shiba Kaien, since everyone hated and avoided Araoneiro as though their lives depended on it.

Except Aporro Grantz. But that was only because their rooms were next to each other, and complete avoidance was impossible.

But, within all of Las Noches, even among Aizen, Ichimaru, and Tousen, Shiba Kaien was known as "The Cool Araoneiro That I Actually _Don't_ Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep".

Or, as Ichimaru called him, "Kaioneiro".

* * *

_Jaggerjaques,_

_ Do you remember Shiba Kaien?_

_-"Harry"_

_P.S. Our Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts._

_

* * *

_

_Bat Boy,_

_ You mean The Cool Araoneiro That I Actually **Don't** Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep?_

_-The King_

_P.S. Sucks for you._

_

* * *

_

_Jaggerjaques,_

_Yes. He is residing at Hogwarts with me. We share a dormitory._

_**Yo! It's been awhile. We should all get together and play cards or something! Say, are you really blond? If you are, please send a picture for me to laugh at.**_

_**-Kaien**_

_...Shiba sends his regards._

_**Geez, man, what's with the giant stick up your ass- OW!**_

"_Harry"_

_P.S. Yes, it does indeed suck for us._

_

* * *

_

_The Cool Araoneiro That I Actually Don't Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep and The Bastard,_

_ No, I'm not going to send a picture for you to laugh at, you fuckin' dumbass. There's no more Araoneiro left in you right? 'Cuz he was an even bigger bastard than The Boy Who Lived over there._

_-The King_

_P.S. Cards are lame. If we're going to do something that cliché, we're playing Quidditch._

"...I _really_ want to see him blond."

"...I did not know that Grimmjow played."

"Well, look at it this way: It's a game where you fly and one of the positions uses a _bat_ to bash people with a very fast, hard and vaguely evil comet-esque ball."

"...Touche."

* * *

"...Who's this one?" Hermione asked confused, inclining her head at Kaien. Kaien smiled sheepishly. "Uh, hi. I'm Kyle Shita." Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Original."

"Shut up!"

Ron shrugged. "Eh. He's better than Jaggerjaques."

* * *

"Being an Auror is worthwhile."

"Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing," said Hermione thoughtfully, "I mean, if I could take SPEW further…"Kaien quirked an eyebrow. "SPEW?" Ulquiorra and Ron blanched in horror at Shiba's fatal mistake.

"I take back what I said," Ron grumbled at Hermione blathered on to SPEW to the poor, poor, Kaien. "Jaggerjaques is better."

* * *

Kaien stared up at Snape curiously. Snape glared down at the new student (Ulquiorra learned earlier that Kaien was an American wizard that got into an exchange program). "Yes?"

"...Are you related to Aizen?" Kaien asked, staring at the so greasy hair that it looked gelled. Ulquiorra snorted.

"I have no idea who that is." Snape said coldly. Kaien gave a 'Hmm' of thought while assembling his ingredients.

"...Kurotsutchi?"

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at Ron's potion as it spit green sparks. "How'd he get it _green_?" Kaien asked lowly, pale gray mist drifting out of his cauldron. Ulquiorra stared into the silvery vapor emitting from his own. "I don't know. You should not ask though." Kaien stared.

"...Did you just use a contraction?"

"..."

* * *

Ulquiorra stormed (gracefully) out of the (as of now) dreaded DADA classroom. The argument was foolish, and now he had detention. Lovely. Distantly, he heard Shiba's voice.

"Oh snap."

"What is your name, young man?"

"...Shita...?"

"Come here, Mr. Shita."

"...Man." Ulquiorra sighed, and waited as the hurrying footsteps of Kaien reach him.

"What a bitch."

"Indeed."

* * *

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"

"Yes," said Ulquiorra. Kaien smirked cheerfully.

"You called her a liar?"

"Yes."

"You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?"

"...Yes." Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Ulquiorra closely. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Potter." Kaien choked on a stifled laugh. Ulquiorra blinked and pushed up his glasses in a Ishida-ish fashion.

"Excuse me?"

* * *

"And what did you do?" McGonagall asked Kaien warily. He shrugged. "I made a quip."

"...You made a quip." McGonagall repeated, while Ulquiorra face palmed.

"Yup."

"...I don't have detention, right?"

"..."

* * *

The universe (author) likes Kaien, so no, he did not get detention.

* * *

"...So...many...lectures..." Ron groaned in mental agony, clutching his head. Kaien agreed. "It's like the Academy all over again!"

"The Acadamy?" Hermione questioned, and Kaien paled, then blushed. "Uh, its, uh, where I, um...went before." He ended vaguely. Ulquiorra face palmed.

* * *

"You haven't given me any ink," Ulquiorra pointed out drolly. Her creepy toady smile widened. Ulquiorra was vaguely afraid that a case of child molestation would occur.

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice. Ulquiorra placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote:

_I must not tell lies. _

His eyes narrowed with sharp stinging pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Ulquiorra right hand- then the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

**..._That bitch!_**

_This cannot be legal._

_**Well, our instant regeneration will take care of it.**_

_... Murciélago, we don't **have** instant regeneration anymore._

_**...Crap.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"I thought you said she was just giving you lines!" Ulquiorra sighed impatiently. "It's nothing."

"Go tell someone! McGonagall! _Dumbledore!"_

"It's nothing." Ulquiorra repeated. "I have suffered far worse."

* * *

_Dear Snuffles, _

_I do hope you're well, the first week back here has been terrible, I'm really glad it is the weekend. We have got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She is nearly as nice as your mother. I am writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge. We are all missing our biggest friend. _

_Please write back quickly. _

_Best, _

_Harry James Potter_

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra stood straight and awkward as Cho Chang tied her package to the owl.

He was never good with small talk. Or women.

_How_ Orihime fell for him he will never know.

* * *

"I have just seen Sirius's head in the fire," said Ulquiorra. Kaien blinked. "The mass murderer?"

"My godfather."

"...Why does _your_ life get to be so cool?"

"Why do you keep telling the new guys about Sirius?" Ron wondered out loud.

* * *

"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," Sirius said. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Ulquiorra deadpanned. Kaien grinned, amused.

"Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear."

"But what if you'd been seen?" said Hermione anxiously.

"Well, I think a girl - first-year, by the look of her - might've got a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry" Sirius said hastily, as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, "I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly-shaped log or something."

"But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk -" Hermione began.

"Meh." Kaien cheerfully interrupted. "He didn't get caught, so he cares? Remember, it's only illegal if you're caught. Or whatever the hell that saying is." He trailed off thoughtfully, pouting to himself in thought. Sirius raised an eyebrow. "...Who's the new guy?"

"I'm Ka-" Ulquiorra punched him. Kaien yelled in agony. Hermione, Ron, and Sirius stared.

"Kai-" Ulquiorra punched him again.

"DUDE!"

"Tell him your name."

"I am!"

"You're name is _**Kyle**_, you moron."

"...Oh. Right."

* * *

"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," said Sirius with a wry smile. "I know she's a nasty piece of work, though — you should hear Remus talk about her."

"Who?" Kaien blinked. He was ignored.

"Does Lupin know her?" asked Ulquiorra, recalling that Umbridge made some comments about dangerous half-breeds during her first lesson.

"No," said Sirius, "but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job." Ulquiorra remembered how much shabbier Lupin looked these days and his disgust of Umbridge (and corrupt government systems) deepened even further.

"What's she got against werewolves?" said Hermione angrily.

"Scared of them, I expect," said Sirius, smiling at her indignation. "Apparently she loathes part humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose."

"...Who?" Kaien asked, confused, while Ron laughed but Hermione looked upset. "Sirius!" she said reproachfully. "Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said -"

"So, what are Umbridge's lessons like?" Sirius interrupted. "Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?"

"No," said Ulquiorra. "She's not letting us use magic at all."

"All we do is read the stupid textbook," said Ron. "I just doodle in mine." Kaien admitted.

"Ah, well, that figures," said Sirius. "Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."

"Trained in combat." repeated Ulquiorra incredulously. "What does he think we are doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"

"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing," said Sirius, "or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing - forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic."

"..."

"...Who does Fudge think Dumbledore is? Aizen?" Kaien questioned distantly. Ron, Hermione, and Sirius blinked. "...Wha-?"

"Actually, Aizen and Dumbledore have some similarities." Ulquiorra mused. "You'll see it when you meet Dumbledore up close."

"...Should I be afraid?"

"Oh, certainly. Dumbledore unnerves the hell out of me."

"Wait, are we talking "I am the King of Las Noches, and the future God of the world" Aizen, or "Captain" Aizen?"

"Captain."

"Maaaannnnn. He was the creepier one!"

"...What?"

* * *

"When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could -"

"NO!" said Ulquiorra and Hermione together, very loudly. ...Well, Hermione was loud at least.

"Sirius, didn't you see the _Daily_ Prophet?" said Hermione anxiously.

"Oh, that," said Sirius, grinning, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue -"

"This time they have," said Ulquiorra. "Malfoy said something on the train definitely implied that he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform Sirius, so do not come up here. If Malfoy recognizes you again -"

"All right, all right, I've got the point,' said Sirius. He looked most displeased. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."

"I would, I just don't want you taken back to Azkaban." said Ulquiorra. Honestly, was Sirius _that _stupid?

There was a pause in which Sirius looked out of the fire at Ulquiorra, a crease between his sunken eyes.

"You're less like your father than I thought," he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James." Ulquiorra was floored. _Eh?_

_**...The ridiculousness...it's so bizarre it's not even funny.**_

"My father has nothing to do with me." Ulquiorra said calmly, rage bubbling inside. Would he be compared to his father forever? And Sirius? He heard Molly Weasely's accusations, but he just thought she was just saying nonsense in the heat of the argument... "I am not James Potter, nor do I even wish to be."

"...Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs," said Sirius, but Ulquiorra knew he was lying. "I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?" Then his face popped out of the fire, leaving Ulquiorra sitting in front of the hearth, staring bitterly into the dancing golden flames.

* * *

_MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL ____REFORM_

___DOLORES UMBR1DGE APPOINTED_

___FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR_

"...Dammit."

* * *

"She's an awful woman," said Hermione, referring to the Demon Lady.

...No, not Unohana. Though she is pretty damn scary. Nah, we're talking Umbridge.

"Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in… we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly. Murciélago perked up. _**Hey...  
**_

**NO.  
**

"No… I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defence from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that?' said Ron, yawning. "S too late, isn't it? She's got the job, she's here to stay. Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well,' said Hermione tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today…" she shot a slightly nervous look at Ulquiorra, who was getting a bad feeling about this, and then plunged on, "I was thinking that - maybe the time's come when we should just - just do it ourselves."

"Learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves?" said Ulquiorra suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles that Hermione had prepared for his bleeding hand.

"Yes!" said Hermione estatically. "Exactly it Harry!"

"Come off it," groaned Ron. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Kyle and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" said Hermione.

Ulquiorra and Ron goggled at her. Well, Ron goggled. Ulquiorra just raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!" said Ron.

"Don't be silly, of course there is," said Hermione, and Ulquiorra saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervor that SPEW usually inspired in her.

Which was a _really_ bad sign.

"It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year -"

"We can't do much by ourselves,' said Ron in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose -"

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books," said Hermione. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong." Ulquiorra saw where this was going, and what Hermione wanted. He mentally groaned.

"You cannot be seriously thinking what I think you are." Ulquiorra deadpanned. Hermione smiled.

"Well, of course; isn't it obvious? I'm talking about _you_, Harry."

* * *

"Do you really think someone like me could teach?" Ulquiorra sighed exasperatedly. "I'm much to particular to be a teacher."

"But then our results would be spectacular!" Hermione protested. "You would point out our mistakes and fix them until it was perfect!" Kaien entered the common room from the dorm, looking sleepy. He yawned. "Hey. I thought I heard Hermione's excited S.P.E.W. Voice. What's going on?" Ron turned and filled the tired wizard in on the situation, while Hermione continued in her encouragement. Ulquiorra pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hermione, this is ridic-"

"But you've done such amazing things-"

"Regardless, teaching other Hogwarts students is not the same as facing Voldemort face to face-"

Kaien coughed and smirked and said a very simple sentence. It was only four words, but those words were four words of power, persuasion, and something that Ulquiorra could NOT back down from. Even if it cost him his very life and soul.

"...Kurosaki would do it."

…_Damn._

* * *

Ulquiorra was running. His legs pounded cold stone floor and his chest burned with antipaction. He wanted it. What was beyond. His hand stretched towards the locked door...if he could only open it...then it would be his...all his...

* * *

Murciélago glared up at the bastard. The bastard glared back. "Stop it!" She snarled. "You're disrupting my Master's sleep with your stupidity!"

"It's _not_ stupid!" He choked defiantly. You see, he was choking because Murciélago was strangling him with her tail, which, if you somehow manage to ask Ichigo, wasn't all that pleasant. Murciélago dropped him unceremoniously and stalked off to her part of the cave.

"I don't give two shits, but if your precious prophecy crap messes with the Master, then you're _dead!"_

* * *

"Well, here it is. The Hogs Head." Hermione said nervously, presenting the run down dingy bar to Kaien, Ron, and Ulquiorra.

"...It's too empty."_ The odds of us being overheard are unbelievable..._

"Well, the Three Broomsticks was out of the question so..."

"..." _**But no one would be able to hear us over all the noise in there.**_

_Let her have her moment I suppose._

_**...This is gonna bite us in the ass later...won't it?**_

_Probably._

_

* * *

_

25.

_25._

_**Twenty-fucking-five.**_

Ulquiorra glared at Hermione, who stared back sheepishly. "You consider this a _few_ people?"

"Heh..."

* * *

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH _INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

_All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and dubs are henceforth disbanded._

_An organisation, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)._

_No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

_Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organisa-tion, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor_

"...DAMMIT."

_

* * *

_

Hedwig was perched on the narrow window ledge of the History of Magic (the most droll class EVER) classroom, gazing through the thick glass at Ulquiorra, a letter tied to her leg. Ulquiorra frowned; why on earth hadn't she delivered the letter then, as usual? Many of his classmates were pointing out Hedwig to each other, too.

"Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful," Ulquiorra heard Lavender sigh to Parvati. _Well, naturally._

He glanced at Professor Binns who continued to read his notes, serenely unaware that the class's attention was even less focused upon him than usual. Ulquiorra stealthily snuck off his chair, crouched down and hurried along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.

He had expected Hedwig to hold out her leg so that he could remove the letter and then fly off to the Owlery but the moment the window was open wide enough she hopped inside, hooting dolefully. He closed the window, crouched low again and sped back to his seat with Hedwig on his shoulder. He regained his seat, transferred Hedwig to his lap and made to remove the letter tied to her leg.

He instantly realized that Hedwig's feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.

"She's hurt." Ulquiorra hissed, bending his head low over her. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill and whispered. "Look - there's something wrong with her wing -"

"-Professor, I am not feeling well." Ulquiorra called out loudly. Hermione face palmed.

* * *

His mail was being intercepted.

...How did **not** see that coming?

* * *

"Hi," Sirius said grinning.

"Hi," chorused Kaien, Ron and Hermione, Ulquiorra just giving a brisk nod, all four kneeling down on the hearthrug.

"How're things?" said Sirius.

"Not that good," said Ulquiorra, "The Ministry has forced through another decree, which means we are not allowed to have Quidditch teams -"

"Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?" said Sirius.

There was a short pause.

"How did you know about that?" Kaien asked curiously.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. The Hog's Head, I ask you."

"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" (_Uh, not really_)said Hermione defensively. That's always packed with people -"

"Who overheard us?" Ulquiorra cut in tiredly. Murciélago crooned sympathetically.

"Mundungus, of course," said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled he laughed. "He was the witch under the veil."

"That was Mundungus?" Ulquiorra said (Kaien's question of "Who?" was ignored), stunned that he would actually go so far to dress as a woman. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"

"What do you think he was doing?" said Sirius impatiently. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."

"Tienes que estar bromeando..." Kaien snickered.

"...Huh?"

* * *

"Ron - I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh goody."

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later. She also" Sirius's eyes turned to the other three, "advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight."

"On duty doing what?" said Ron quickly.

"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said Sirius (Kaien's dry comment of "Wow. Descriptive." was ignored. Again), "So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to."

"So, you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defense group?" Ron muttered finally.

"Me? Certainly not!" said Sirius, looking surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea!"

_**Of course he does. He's probably going to say some comment about the 'Old days' and your father now.**_

"D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?"

…

_**Told you.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Sirius's face was suddenly tense and he turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.

"Sirius?" Ulquiorra asked slowly. "What-?"

But he had vanished. Ulquiorra stared at the flames for a moment, then turned to look at Ron and Hermione and Kaien.

"Why did he -?'

Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire.

A a stubby short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings was groping as though to catch hold of something. Kaien turned to the stupefied and horrified Trio.

"...Scatter."

And thus, they scattered faster than Senbonzakura.

* * *

"It hurt because… he's… angry."

Ulquiorra knew at once that the words he had spoken were true. He did not know how he knew it, but he did; Voldemort, wherever he was, whatever he was doing, was in a temper. He fingered the lingering burn of his scar curiously.

"Did you see him?' said Ron, looking horrified. "Did you… get a vision, or something?"

Ulquiorra sat quite still, working with Murciélago to sort through the whirl of images and foreign emotion.

A confused tangle of shapes, a howling rush of voices…

"He wants something done, and it is not happening fast enough," he said.

"But… how do you know?" said Ron.

Ulquiorra exhaled softly. "That is quite a question...How do I know, I wonder?"

Murciélago coughed uncomfortably.

"Is this what it was about last time?" said Ron in a hushed voice. "When your scar hurt in Umbridge's office? You-Know-Who was angry?"

Ulquiorra shook his head. No, he wasn't angry...it was something else...

"What is it, then?"

Ulquiorra was thinking himself back. He had been looking into Umbridge's face… his scar had hurt… and he had had that odd feeling in his stomach… a strange, leaping feeling… a _happy_ feeling…

"Last time, it was because he was pleased," he said. "Really pleased. He thought… something good was going to happen. And the night before we came back to Hogwarts…" Ulquiorra thought back to a moment when his scar had hurt excruciatingly in his and Ron's bedroom in Grimmauld Place "he was furious"

He looked round at Ron, who was gaping at him.

"No, you know what you're doing?" Ron said, sounding both scared and impressed. "Harry, _you're reading You-Know-Who's_ mind!"

"No," said Ulquiorra, shaking his head. "It is his emotions. I am just getting flashes of what mood he is in. Dumbledore said something like this was happening last year. He said that when Voldemort was near me, or when he was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I'm feeling it when he's pleased, too…"

* * *

Murciélago and Voldequiorra (Ulquimort?) fought fiercely within the dark and hauntingly beautiful cave of Ulquiorra's world.

...Well, Murciélago was fighting. Voldequiorra was running for his life.

"GET BACK HERE AND DIE!"

"FUCK YOU, YOU FREAKISH BAT THING!"

"SAY _WHAT?"_

_

* * *

_

_He was walking once more along a windowless corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence. As the door at the end of the passage loomed larger, his heart beat fast with excitement… if he could only open it… enter beyond…_

_He stretched out his hand… his fingertips were inches from it…_

"Harry Potter, sir!"

He awoke with a jolt. The candles had all been extinguished in the common room, but there was something moving close by.

"What? Who's there?" Sitting upright in his chair, Ulquiorra glanced around acutely. The fire was almost out, and the room was very dark.

"Dobby has your owl, sir!" said a squeaky voice.

Ulquiorra blinked and down at the eager house elf...

...Only to come face to face with the most absurd and hilarious image he had ever seen.

Ulquiorra now knew who took Hermione's recently knitted hats and socks when the Gryffindor Common Room was cleaned.

* * *

A "Room of Requirement".

Sounds useful.

* * *

Ulquiorra Schiffer, even after being reborn as a human, was a real chick magnet.

Inky raven black hair (that was slowly learning to be flat, shaggy, and sexy instead of spiky Potter messiness), enchanting green eyes, well defined face and jaw, and a lean Espada muscular physique. He had large elegant pianist hands that had great nimble skill, whether it was wielding a wand, swinging a sword, or threading a needle. His skin was perfectly pale and never flawed, his deep, dark, and seductive voice beckoning to every female that he came into contact with to partake in activities that were very inappropriate and naughty.

I mean, there _was_ a reason that Orihime was attracted to him even when he was a Espada jackass. Of course, he was about 10 times hotter back then since he didn't have the lame Potter glasses (which he was really considering replacing), as well as having the ethereal phantom effect working for him. Not to mention he (obliviously) won (actually, he technically tied with Grimmjow) the secret "Most Attractive Male Espada" Poll back in Las Noches.

So, naturally, Ulquiorra was totally oblivious to all this.

For someone whose 'Eyes see everything', he was kinda blind.

"Oh no,"' said Cho rather wildly as Ulquiorra languidly approached. '_Expelliarmious_! I mean, _Expellimellius! _I - oh, sorry, Marietta!"

Her curly-haired friend's sleeve had caught fire; Marietta extinguished it with her own wand and glared at Ulquiorra as though it was his fault.

It was, of course, but still. The nerve.

"You made me nervous, I was doing all right before then!" Cho told Ulquiorra ruefully.

"'Well, yes, that was terrible," Ulquiorra began to Cho's despair, "but I know you can do it properly, I was watching from over there."

Her face broke into relief and she laughed. Her friend Marietta looked at them rather sourly and turned away.

* * *

"Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, referring to the impending Quidditch match, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Harry -"

Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes.

Could they be any _more_ obvious?

* * *

Ulquiorra was (usually) a calm individual. He did not rise to bait, did not charge blindly into battles and fights. Not for anything. Well, except for...

"And you Potter! You're mothers Muggle stink must be revolting! No wonder you can't land a girlfriend! Even Ginger over there has better luck with women!"

_...Woman...Ginger...Kurosaki...Kurosaki...**Kuro-fucking-saki.**.._

"NO! HARRY! GEORGE!" Ulquiorra was deaf to all sound besides the satisfying thuds of his rock hard fists slamming into fleshy soft Malfoy skin, and his pathetically wailing. He raised his hand, his fingers coming together to lunge to his collarbone-

"_I____mpedimenta__!"_

* * *

"Banned," said Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. "_Banned_. No Seeker and no Beaters… what on earth are we going to do?"

Ulquiorra, Fred, or George didn't answer.

* * *

_**Holy Bleeding Swelling Bruises, Batman!**_ Was Murciélago reaction to seeing Hagrid.

To put it bluntly and simply, he looked like crap mixed with hell tinged with a smidge of -

"-HOLY MOTHER OF-!" Kaien exclaimed. Ulquiorra reacted more subtly, but still obnoxiously. Well, to Hagrid. To us readers and everyone else, he was being witty.

"...Looking good, Hagrid. Real sexy."

"...Have you always been such a smart ass?"

"...Yes."

* * *

So, to sum it up. Hagrid went to find the giants with Madame Maxime, found the giants, bonded with their leader, only that leader was murdered and replaced by a leader who hated Hagrid's guts. Then, Death Eaters came, and things just snowballed.

Oh, and Hagrid's giant mother apparently died a few years ago.

..._Grrrreeaaaaaaattttttt..._

* * *

"Dangerous?" said Hagrid, looking genially bemused. "Don' be silly, I wouldn' give yeh anythin' dangerous! I mean, all righ', they can look after themselves -"

Kaien face palmed. Ulquiorra dearly wished he could as well but, you know.

He's Ulquiorra.

* * *

A pair of blank, white eyes shone as the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed the Care of Magical Creature class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow offering that Hagrid had lain on the forest floor with its pointed fangs. More began to appear, to the shock, horror, and disgust of the majority of the class. Not for the reason you think.

"Don' worry, it won' hurt yen," said Hagrid patiently. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?'"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Go on then," said Hagrid, beaming at her.

"The only people who can see Thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."

Yeah, most of the class was horrified at the hunks of meat that were mysteriously ripped off the cow carcass and vanishing. Ulquiorra was just interested, and a little disturbed at how similar they were to Murciélago.

* * *

Kaien shoved his way to the front of the crowd, next to Ulquiorra.

He gave the Thestrals a once over. Nodded his head.

"Bitchin'." was his simple sage comment of wisdom.

* * *

_**SHE. MUST. DIE.**_ Murciélago snarled as Umbridge began to disrupt Hagrid's lesson in the most obnoxious way ever known to mankind. _**PAINFULLY.**_

_No arguments there. _

_

* * *

_

"Well," said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner of the DA Headquarters, "we've finally replaced you."

"And here I thought our relationship was soaring to new heights." Ulquiorra quipped drolly. Angelina rolled her eyes and glared at him. Ulquiorra sarcastically raised his hands in defense.

"You're lucky you're hot Potter," She huffed and continued, ignoring his confused look, "You and Fred and George," she said impatiently. "We've got another Seeker!"

"Who?" said Ulquiorra, seemingly uninterested. Deciding he was thirsty, he willed the room to summon a glass and used his wand to fill it with water. He took a generous and dignified sip.

"Ginny Weasley," said Katie.

Ulquiorra's dignified sip of water was spat out of his mouth.

"Yeah, I know," said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, "but she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course," she said, throwing him a very dirty look, "but as we can't have you…"

"My apologies for not hiring a awful bitch to work for Hogwarts and defending my mother's honor." Ulquiorra muttered bitterly, setting the glass down and sliding his hands in their rightful home; his pockets. "And what about the Beaters?"

"Andrew Kirke," said Alicia without enthusiasm, "He's not brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up…" Ulquiorra kicked up an eyebrow. "And..." Katie turned her head and beamed. "Oh, there he is! He's pretty spectacular, Harry," She giggled mischievously, and Ulquiorra sensed a girlish comment that was destined to make him uncomfortable approaching. "He's _really _cute too."

_...And there it is._

"Who-?"

"Hey! Whassup?" Ulquiorra's eyes snapped wide. ..._Oh no. _He felt a presence next to him and a hand clap his shoulder merrily.

"Hey. Harry, this is Kyle Shita." Angelina gestured to the happy Kaien lazily. "Our new beater."

"'Sup, man?" Kaien asked cheerfully. Ulquiorra's face (metaphorically) sweatdropped.

* * *

_What do I do?_ Ulquiorra thought anxiously, his back straight and stiff as a rod of iron, his hands jammed into his pockets. _What the **fuck** do I do? _Murciélago rolled her eyes irritably. Her tail swished back and forth, beating the damp cave stone floor, her toe talons clicking impatiently.

_**Ulquiorra,**_ Ulquiorra tensed. She hardly called him by his actual name. Oh god, he was screwed. **_You're not screwed. It's just a girl!_**

_Murciélago-_

_**You've kissed girls a bunch of times. You've had sex more times than you've kissed girls!**_

_That was a lifetime ago! And only to satisfy Arrancar canal urges, it was not like I was trying to please the other person! I was not even paying **attention **to the other person!_

_**For the love of-! Alright, just start out simply what pleases you, and I'll help you along the way.**_

…

_**...That sounds wrong, but whatever. Now suck it up, and kiss the weepy chick already!**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" Hermione asked incredulously. Ulquiorra, Kaien, and Ron shared a look of understanding that only boys could have with each other. They turned back to Hermione.

"No," they all said together.

Hermione sighed.

"Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings towards Harry are, anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly." They all gaped at her.

"...How is all that _obvious_?" Ulquiorra asked dumbly, feeling foolish that he was not able to see all this. He heard Murciélago's snort of derision.

_**You are such a MALE! **_ Murciélago scoffed indignantly. _**Honestly! I wonder if Nejibana has to deal with this?**_

_FLASHBACK_

_-1 year ago-_

"_YOU IDIOT!" The nobly dressed woman shrieked, using a lovely and intricate folded Chinese style fan to beat the crap out of the trembling adolescent boy. "I don't get what I did!" The 14 year old Shiba Kaien wailed. "Why did she break up with me?"_

"_Maybe because you said purple looked awful on her!"_

"_But it did!"_

"_So what? You're not supposed to actually **say **it!"_

"_HUH? But- OW! Stop hitting**-OW! Nejibana!"**_

"_**YOU IMBECILE!"**_

_**

* * *

**_

His body felt smooth, powerful and flexible. He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone… he was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly…he was a snake...no, a serpent; powerful and cunning. It was dark, yet he could see objects around him easily. They were shimmering in strange, vibrant colors… he was turning his head… at first glance the corridor was empty… but no… a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping on to his chest.

Ulquiorra's tongue slid out and flicked the air… he tasted the man's scent. He was sleeping or dozing… sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor…

Ulquiorra desired to bite the man… but he must master the impulse… he had more important work to do…he had his orders.

But the man was stirring… a silver Cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Ulquiorra saw his vibrant outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt… he had no choice then. He reared high from the floor and struck thrice, plunging his long curved fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath his jaws, feeling the familiar warm gush of blood…it still tasted metallic and sickeningly delicious, despite the need to writhe in disgust.

The man was yelling in pain, such a terrible agony was this man fated to… then he fell silent; slumped backwards against the wall, his scarlet thick blood was splattering on to the floor...iron wafted in the air.

His forehead hurt terribly…

_**

* * *

**_

**A/N: See part two and review! I've got rhyming skillz.**

**Though in all seriousness-review and read on ahead.**

_**Tienes que estar bromeando: You've got to be kidding me**_


	7. Year 5: Despair

**Year 5: The Despair**

"Your father," he panted, his chest heaving and mouth tasting rancid from vomit and the lingering taste of no longer sweet blood. "has been attacked…he is dying." A white face stared at him.

"What?" said Ron uncomprehendingly. Kaien's face deadpanned and he face palmed.

"'Your father is dying' is a pretty clear statement, you moron!"

* * *

"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore. "He has been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there."

The Weasely children sat in their uncomfortable chairs, looking tense and afraid. Kaien looked nonchalant. Ulquiorra stared distantly into space, his mind whirling.

Time to visit Murciélago.

* * *

Murciélago was strangling Voldequiorra when Ulquiorra walked, for the first time, into his inner world. At first his interest and curiosity was drawn to the elegant and earthy landscape of the echoing, dark cavern and the luminescent glare of the underground lake.

Then, he noticed Murciélago and Voldequiorra.

"...What the hell?"

* * *

"So I think we should keep him alive until he is no longer useful to us." Ulquiorra argued to his pissed Zanpaktou, after getting the whole explanation- Murciélago Style.

"_So, Ulquiorra-" Murciélago introduced, ignoring that strange and confused Voldemort copy, "This is Voldequiorra-"_

"_Stop calling me that! And why are you calling him Ulquiorra you bat freak?"_

"_-This is Voldequiorra," Murciélago repeated loudly, hitting the soul fragment with her tail and sending him sprawling, "he's a fragment of Voldemort's soul."_

"_...There's a fragment of Voldemort's soul living inside my own?"_

"_Yup. How is beyond me. Probably goes back to him epically failing to off you as a baby."_

"_**Everything** goes back to him epically failing to kill me as a baby."_

"_Good point. So, you and Voldy are connected through this bastard," pokes said bastard's eye with tail, "so that's why you get all those flashes of his feelings and visions and shit. I told him to stop and keep a low profile, but noooooo."_

"_...I...see..."_

Murciélago disagreed. "Hell no! He's invading our privacy and space, not to mention he's a fricking obnoxious jackass."

"Hey!"

"But we can exploit him." Ulquiorra pressed. "Use him for our gain, and then discard him." Voldequiorra twitched. "HELL NO!" Murciélago looked thoughtfully at him and Ulquiorra. "...Well, it _is_ logical. And pisses him off..." Murciélago eyes gleamed evilly. "Yeah...let's keep him alive."

"DAMMIT!"

And thus, the third Horcrux was discovered.

* * *

Ulquiorra smirked semi-evilly. Kaien was obviously trying to contain his mirth as they watched the owl fly off with 'Leroy's' gift.

"Pound it, man."

"I suppose I may indulge in your bizarre American custom this one time."

* * *

_Jaggerjaques Family Manor- Paris, France_

"Maître Leroy, un cadeau de Noël est arrivé pour vous."

"Really? Wonder what-"

"..."

"...Maître?"

"..._Ces__ bâtards_!

* * *

"I do hope that Grimmjow enjoys the catnip we sent him."

* * *

St. Mungos. The wizard hospital and crazy house.

..._It's too white._

_**True 'dat.**_

…

_**...Can't pull that off either?**_

_No._

_**Dang.**_

"Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?" asked Fred, indicating the newspaper Mr Weasley had cast aside.

"No, of course not," said Mr Weasley, with a slightly bitter smile, "the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got -"

"Arthur!" Mrs Weasley warned him.

"- got - er - me," Mr Weasley said hastily. Kaien raised an eyebrow. Ulquiorra sighed. _Such masterful deception and subtlety._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra stared at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of a corridor signposted SPELL DAMAGE in horror. A man was peering out at them all with his nose pressed against the glass. He had wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes and a broad vacant smile that revealed dazzlingly white teeth.

"Blimey!" said Ron, also staring at the man.

"Oh, my goodness," said Hermione suddenly, sounding breathless. "Professor Lockhart!" Ulquiorra despaired. _He has lost his memory. Perhaps he won't-_

"Well, hello there! I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

Ulquiorra, with great precision and accuracy, socked him in the face.

Kaien laughed his ass off and held up a wizard camera.

"Do it again! Do it again!"

* * *

Ulquiorra did it again, and Kaien made the picture their Christmas card.

Grimmjow laughed his ass off when he got it.

"Maître Leroy, ce- ?"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Man, this is fucking _**awesome**_!"

* * *

Ulquiorra pushed open the kitchen door to find Sirius and Snape both seated at the long kitchen table, glaring in opposite directions. The silence between them was heavy with mutual dislike. A letter lay open on the table in front of Sirius. The situation could be easily compared to a Western style showdown.

"...Hello." said Ulquiorra, to announce his presence.

"Sit down, Potter."

"Nice to see you too." Ulquiorra muttered, pulling up a chair and easing down elegantly.

"You know," said Sirius loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and speaking to the ceiling, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."

An ugly flush suffused Snape's pallid face. _**It's **__**on**__** now.**_

"I was supposed to see you alone, Potter," said Snape, the familiar sneer curling his mouth, "but Black -"

"I'm his godfather," said Sirius, louder than ever. Ulquiorra dropped his head to his head. This would not end well, even for Snape VS. Sirius standards.

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," said Snape, whose voice, by contrast, was becoming more and more quietly waspish, "but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel… involved."

'What's that supposed to mean?' said Sirius, letting his chair fall back on to all four legs with a loud bang.

"Merely that I am sure you must feel - ah - frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful," Snape laid a delicate stress on the word, "for the Order."

It was Sirius's turn to flush. Snape's lip curled in triumph as he turned to Ulquiorra.

"The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"The magical defense of the mind against external penetration." Ulquiorra quipped back promptly, relishing in the surprise on Snape's face. Oh, how Ulquiorra loved to screw with Snape's head. "Who will be teaching me?" Snape's lips curled distastefully. Ulquiorra paled.

_Oh. GOD NO._

"I am." Snape replied looking like he had swallowed a large amount of Hollow rodent blood.

Eurgh.

* * *

"But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly. Ulquiorra sweatdropped. _That is not going to be a compliment, you idiot._

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly. _Say what? Who am I, __**Grimmjow?**_

Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table towards Snape, pulling out his wand as he went. Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius's wand-tip to his face.

"Sirius!" Ulquiorra snapped sharply, but Sirius appeared not to hear him.

"I've warned you, Snivilus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better -"

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months?"

"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognised you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform… gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"

Sirius raised his wand.

"Stop you fools!" Ulquiorra vaulted over the table and tried (the key word) to get in between them. "Sirius, don't!"

"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Ulquiorra out of the way, something Ulquiorra did _not_ appreciate.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

"_Not_. _**Helping**_."

"Harry - get - out - of - it!" snarled Sirius, pushing him aside with his free hand. "Dammit Sirius-!"

Kaien then strolled into the kitchen casually, listening to a Muggle Ipod. The three of them stared as he blatantly ignored them and got a butterbeer from the pantry. He bounced back to the kitchen door, loud music blasting in his ears. He paused at the door and turned to them. He nodded, said, "'Sup?" and left, humming what sounded suspiciously like American 'Glee' music.

_...Moron._

_

* * *

_

"Erm… there's another Hogsmeade trip next month, did you see the notice?"

"Hm? Oh, no, I have not checked the noticeboard since I returned."

"Yes, it's on Valentine's Day…"

"The day of The Heart," Ulquiorra confirmed, wondering why she was telling him this. "Well, I suppose you want to -"

"Only if you do," she said eagerly.

Ulquiorra blinked his vivid green eyes. He had been about to say, "I suppose you want to know when the next DA meeting is?" but her response did not seem to fit.

"...What?" he said.

"Oh, it's OK if you don't," she said, looking mortified. "Don't worry. I - I'll see you around."

She walked away. Ulquiorra stared after her, baffled. Kaien walked past him and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "She's trying to ask you out on a date, dumbass."

"Cho! Wait a moment!"

* * *

"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of," said Snape.

"Understood." Ulquiorra replied curtly, feeling much like the obedient Espada of the past.

"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," said Snape softly. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. You will find that similar powers are needed for this… brace yourself, now. Legilimens!"

He was five, and wielding a thick stick like a blade...He was 10, and talking to a boa constrictor at the zoo...He was sitting under the Sorting Hat, learning that he would do fantastically in Slytherin...He was 13, and there were dementors closing on all sides...

"_STOOOOPP!"_

"Out. NOW!" Ulquiorra could feel his hand and arm move and preform some type of hex. He blinked his memories away and saw Snape, who had lowered his wand and was rubbing his wrist. There was an angry weal there, like a scorch mark.

"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" asked Snape coolly.

"Possibly." Ulquiorra snarled quietly. How dare he...invade on his thoughts of his woman. That bastard. "What did you see?"

"Flashes." Snape eyed with him curiosity. "Who was the girl?" Ulquiorra's blood ran cold. "She sounded very... desperate."

"None of your business." Ulquiorra snarled ferally, his grip tightening on his wand. Snape looked surprised at his ferocity.

"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," said Snape, wiping his surprised look off his face, raising his wand once more. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."

"Perhaps giving some instruction would help, _Sir._"

"Manners, Potter," said Snape dangerously. "Now, I want you to close your eyes."

Ulquiorra threw him a filthy look before doing as he was told. He did not like the idea of standing there with his eyes shut while Snape faced him, carrying a wand.

"Clear your mind, Potter,"' said Snape's cold voice. "Let go of all emotion…"

_That's ironic._ Ulquiorra thought as he easily fell into the state of nihilism with the skill of a master. _How very ironic._

"Let's go again… on the count of three… one - two - three -Legilimens!"

* * *

Snape saw all what Ulquiorra allowed him to see, all of what he was feeling.

Blackness. Nothing. Then, a choking feeling hit him. There was no memories, no flashes of images, just a choking, drowning emotion that seeped inside of him like poison, turned his heart to stone and black in color.

"_Do you see it?" _Snape surely had to be dying, there was no other- _"Do you see?_

"_My True Despair."_

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra was excused from Snape's office and they both decided that Ulquiorra got a good grasp on Occlumency and no more lessons were required.

And that what happened in that office on Monday at six o' clock will _stay _in that office on Monday at six o' clock.

* * *

"Hello." Ulquiorra said curtly with a completely stoic voice. Hermione and Ron looked at him quizzically while Kaien paled. "Uh, hi." Ron said. Kaien twitched and pointed. "No!"

"Occlumency requires clearing my mind and heart of emotion."

"GOD DAMMIT!"

* * *

_Blondie,_

_Emospada is back. Like, actually._

_-The Cool Araoneiro That You Actually Don't Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep_

_P.S. We hope you like our present._

_

* * *

_

_The Cool Araoneiro That I Actually Don't Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep,_

…_Seriously?_

_-The King_

_P.S. Screw you guys._

_

* * *

_

_Kit Kat,_

_Yeah, apparently there's this magic that's necessary to his survival or something and it requires 'Clearing the mind of all emotion' or something lame like that._

_-The Cool Araoneiro That You Actually Don't Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep _

_P.S. Ha ha._

_

* * *

_

_The Cool Araoneiro That I Actually Don't Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep,_

_**GOD DAMMIT!**_

_-The King_

_P.S. **KIT KAT?**_

_**

* * *

**_

Mass breakout from Azkaban.

Department of Mysteries Worker murdered in St. Mungos.

Hagrid on probation.

…

"Screw it." Ulquiorra muttered to the surprise of Kaien and Ron. "Voldemort can invade my head all he wants, screw stoicism." Kaien blinked and grinned while Ron just looked confused. "Uh..."

Kaien jumped up to stand on his seat in the Great Hall and threw his hands up in triumph. "YES! YOU'RE NOT A STOIC BASTARD ANYMORE! WOO!"

This, of course, landed his ass in detention.

* * *

_Kit Kat (as you will be eternally called),_

_He's back, and it's all good._

_...Well, it would be all good if my beloved Miyako returned to me, but besides that; all good :D_

_-The Cool Araoneiro That You Actually Don't Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep _

_

* * *

_

_The Cool Araoneiro That I Actually Don't Want To Slaughter Painfully In His Sleep,_

_Sweet._

_-The King_

_

* * *

_

"And about time! If it hadn't come today…" Hermione said, eagerly tearing open the envelope and pulling out a small piece of parchment. Her eyes sped from left to right as she read through the message and a grimly pleased expression spread across her face. The boys felt a sharp and keen fear.

"Listen, Harry," she said, looking up at Ulquiorra, "this is really important. Do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"

"I am uncertain," said Ulquiorra with a raised eyebrow. "Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do."

"Well, bring her along if you must," said Hermione urgently. "But will you come?"

"...Very well. But why-?"

Hermione was already gone.

"...Does she do that a lot?"

"...Yes."

* * *

Ulquiorra was uneasy. Perhaps since it was his 'first date', since he had never had a 'girlfriend' in Las Noches, only temporary partners to satisfy annoying primal needs of sexual nature. Mostly though, it was because it was Valentine's Day. The day of The Heart. The woman spoke of it often, and Ulquiorra felt ridiculously, well, _guilty_, that he was going on a date on the woman's favorite holiday with another girl. Which was stupid, since the woman only fawned over Kurosaki and never saw nor engaged with him in romantic or sexual activities or intentions. Except that _one_ time when she was drunk, but Ulquiorra was pretty sure that didn't count.

* * *

The date...didn't go well.

_Alright, mentioning Hermione was **pretty **stupid-_

_**You think? Don't mention other women when you're on a date with someone, moron! And if you do, act like it's the biggest pain ever! GAH! Why does my wielder have to be such a guy?**_

_-but bringing up Diggory? Seriously? _

_**...Yeah, that was uncalled for. And even stupider than what you did. Later, sure, but on the FIRST DATE? IS SHE TRYING TO**** RUIN THE RELATIONSHIP?**_

_**

* * *

**_

"You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness?"

"I wasn't the sole witness," Ulquiorra shot back coldly, eying Skeeter and her Demon Quill with pure disgust. "There were a dozen-odd Death Eaters there as well. Do you want their names?" He added scathingly.

"I'd love them," breathed Rita, now fumbling in her bag once more and gazing at him as though he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, which was disturbing beyond disturbing. "A great bold headline: _Potter Accuses_…A sub-heading of, '_Harry Potter Names Death Eaters Still Among Us'_. And then, beneath a nice big photograph of you, '_Disturbed teenage survivor of You-Know-Who's attack, Harry Potter, 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the wizarding community of being Death Eaters...' _"

The Quick-Quotes Quill (Of Evil) was actually in her hand and halfway to her mouth when the rapturous expression on her face died.

"But of course," she said, lowering the quill and looking daggers at Hermione, "Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"

"As a matter of fact," said Hermione sweetly, "that's exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want."

Rita stared at her. So did Ulquiorra. Luna, who was with them for some inexplicable reason, on the other hand, sang '_Weasley is our King_' dreamily under her breath and stirred her drink with a cocktail onion on a stick.

* * *

"The true story. All the facts. Exactly as Harry reports them." Hermione continued with enthusiasm, while Rita was growing more and more skeptical, Ulquiorra joining her. Ulquiorra's thoughts drifted to examine the bizarreness of it all and when he tuned back in they talking about something completely different and, also, pure evil.

"You mean the Prophet won't print it because Fudge won't let them," said Hermione irritably.

Rita gave Hermione a long, hard look. Then, leaning forwards across the table towards her, she said in a businesslike tone, "Fudge is leaning on the Prophet, but it comes to the same thing. They won't print a story that shows Harry in a good light. Nobody wants to read it. This last Azkaban breakout has got people quite worried enough. People just don't want to believe You-Know-Whos back."

"So the Daily Prophet exists to tell people what they want to hear, does it?" said Hermione scathingly.

"The Prophet exists to sell itself, you silly girl," she said coldly.

"My dad thinks it's an awful paper," said Luna, chirping into the conversation unexpectedly. "He publishes important stories he thinks the public needs to know. He doesn't care about making money."

Rita looked disparagingly at Luna.

"I'm guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter?" she said. "Probably, Twenty-Jive Ways to Mingle With Muggles and the dates of the next Bring and Fly Sale?"

"No," said Luna, dipping her onion back into her Gillywater, "he's the editor of The Quibbler."

_...Oh._

_**Yes. **_Ulquiorra knew that his batty Zanpaktou was nodding sagely. **_Oh._**

_**

* * *

**_

"Luna says her father's quite happy to take Harry's interview. That's who'll be publishing it." said Hermione pleasantly.

Ulquiorra groaned. Kaien swung a chair next to him and plopped down. "Hey. I was just swinging through. What'd I miss?"

* * *

Ulquiorra decided that life was going okay. His article had put Umbridge in her place, several more people were no longer convinced he was a total nut (and thus, they were now not considered extraordinary idiots), and Cho apologized to him. His forehead was prickling again however, which means more information could be gained...they had already gained so much...

_FLASHBACK_

"_What's the corridor mean?" Murciélago yelled, holding her blade to Voldequiorra's neck. "Tell me you bastard!"_

"_I'll never say you crazy bitch!"_

"_I'll tell detailed descriptions of my sex life if you don't!"_

"_OH GOD! I SURRENDER! I SURRENDER!"_

"_Wise choice. Her partner is a cat humanoid."_

"_...Wait, how-?"_

"_Exactly. Do you **really **want to know? Because you **will** get a horrifyingly detailed explanation if you don't give the information."_

"_...-shudders-"_

"_Exactly."_

Voldemort was seeking some type of prophecy that supposedly involved the both of them, and the corridor led to it. It was located in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry; Bode and that Order Member that was arrested were pawns and forced to try to retrieve it. But why couldn't they...?

_**Don't worry Master! **_Murciélago saluted cheerfully with her tail. _**I'll get the information, you get some good sleep!**_

_...You are way too into the interrogation._

_**So?**_

_Just stating the facts._

_

* * *

_

_**Well, apparently, only those involved in the prophecy thingy can remove it from the Department of Mysteries. **_

_Hm. Figures._

_

* * *

_

_Quibbler Bat,_

_Nice article._

_-The King_

_

* * *

_

_Jaggerjaques,_

_Thank you._

_-Harry James Potter_

_P.S. I hope you enjoyed our Christmas present._

_

* * *

_

_Son of a Bitch,_

_Seriously, SCREW YOU GUYS. _

_-The King_

_P.S. Was the article Granger's idea? Say hi to her for me, by the way. That, and tell her Thanks for P__anthère_ _._

_

* * *

_

_Jaggerjaques,_

_Yes, it was Hermione's idea._

_She says Hello and thanks you for the French Wizarding World Culture books._

_Ron gave me the finger when I told him about you letter, so essentially, Ron gives you the finger._

_-Harry James Potter_

_P.S. Who or what is P__anthère?_

_

* * *

_

"What is it Harry?"

"You gave Jaggerjaques a _cat?"_

"...He seemed to like them."

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the replacement Divination teacher with shock, awe, and some extremely repressed glee. White-blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes; the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse.

The centaur that had saved Ulquiorra's life as a mere eleven year old child. And someone was guaranteed to piss Umbridge off.

"This is Firenze," said Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable."

* * *

"Harry Potter, you are a friend of Hagrid's, are you not?" said the centaur Professor after the most peculiar lesson Ulquiorra had ever attended.

"Yes," said Ulquiorra, nodding.

"Then give him a warning from me. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it."

"His attempt is not working?" Ulquiorra repeated blankly.

"And he would do better to abandon it," said Firenze, nodding. "I would warn Hagrid myself, but I am banished - it would be unwise for me to go too near the Forest now - Hagrid has troubles enough, without a centaurs' battle." Another confused blink.

"What is Hagrid attempting?" Ulquiorra asked softly, the imitation forest of the classroom emitting a peaceful and invasive aura.

"Hagrid has recently rendered me a great service," said Firenze, "and he has long since earned my respect for the care he shows all living creatures. 1 shall not betray his secret. But he must be brought to his senses. The attempt is not working. Tell him, Harry Potter. Good-day to you."

"Ah, good day Firenze."

* * *

"Run." Ulquiorra's quiet but potent voice spread through the room as if he had shouted, and everyone scrambled for the door

It was all over, Ulquiorra thought in despair. Umbridge had found them.

Dumbledore's Army was disbanded.

* * *

"...The Malfoy boy cornered him."

"Did he, did he?"' said Fudge appreciatively. "I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter… I expect you know why you are here?"

Ulquiorra fully intended to respond with a defiant 'yes'. He was not one to hide behind lies and deception. His mouth had parted when he saw Dumbledore shake his head a fraction of an inch to each side

"No."

"I beg your pardon?" said Fudge.

"No," said Ulquiorra, firmly.

"You don't know why you are here?"

"No, not particularly," said Ulquiorra.

"So you have no idea," said Fudge, in a voice positively sagging with sarcasm, "why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"

"School rules?" said Ulquiorra. "Of course not."

"Or Ministry Decrees?" amended Fudge angrily.

"Not that I'm aware of," said Ulquiorra blandly. "May I go back to the Gryffindor Common Room? I need to make some finishing touches to my Transfiguration essay-"

"SHUT IT POTTER!" Fudge roared, spit spraying from his mouth repulsively. Ulquiorra's face drew back in obvious disdain and distaste. "I think, Minister," said Umbridge silkily from beside him, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant." _Crap._

_

* * *

_

Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes as Fudge leaped back in horror. But everyone had seen that her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word 'SNEAK'. Ulquiorra smirked.

_**Damn, you go Hermione!**_

_See, **that** you can pull off._

_**Kyeeessss!**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, still smiling as he waved the list of names of DA members before Fudge's face. "Not Potter's Army. D_umbledore's Army_."

..._Oh no._

"But - but -"

Understanding blazed suddenly in Fudges face. He took a horrified step backwards, yelped, and jumped out of the fire.

"You?" he whispered, stamping again on his simmering cloak.

"That's right," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

"You organized this?" _Not at all._

"I did," said Dumbledore.

"You recruited these students for - for your army?"

"Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course." _Oh, beyond._

Marietta nodded. Fudge looked from her to Dumbledore, his chest swelling.

"Then you have been plotting against me!" he yelled.

"That's right," said Dumbledore cheerfully, right as Ulquiorra said "Not in the slightest."

"Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office," said Dumbledore calmly. _**GUH?**_

"Yes, shut up, Potter!" barked Fudge, who was still ogling Dumbledore with a kind of horrified delight. "Well, well, well - I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead -"

"Instead you get to arrest me," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?"

"Not really."

"Shut it Potter! You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!"

"Ah," said Dumbledore gently, "yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag." Murciélago grinned.

_**...Hell yes.**_

* * *

_BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced_

_Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of_

_Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight._

_Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic_

"**_...Madre de-!"_ **

**

* * *

**

"There," she said, handing it to him. "Drink it before it gets cold, won't you? Well, now, Mr Potter… I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night." Ulquiorra inwardly scoffed. Did she really think that he was going to _drink_ whatever substance she drugged his tea with.

Dumbass. He didn't even _like _tea.

* * *

"She's a lovely person really," said Cho. "She just made a mistake -"

Ulquiorra looked at her, his face deadpanning incredulously.

"'A lovely person who made a mistake'? She betrayed us all, including you."

"Well… we all got away, didn't we?" said Cho pleadingly. "You know, her mum works for the Ministry, it's really difficult for her -"

"Plenty of the other members having family employed at the Ministry," Ulquiorra remarked, unimpressed at the flimsy excuse, "And in case you had not noticed, he hasn't got 'sneak' written across his face -"

"That was a really horrible trick of Hermione Granger's," said Cho fiercely. "She should have told us she'd jinxed that list -"

"It is foolish to think that betraying us would go unreciprocated," said Ulquiorra coldly. "It was effective and deserving punishment." Cho flushed and her eyes grew brighter.

"Oh yes, I forgot - of course, if it was darling Hermione's idea -"

"It does not matter whether it was mine, Hermione's or Ron's." Ulquiorra cut her off. "I would think of it the same way I do now." Cho looked furious and Ulquiorra pushed up his sliding glasses (he _really _needed new ones) and sighed. "I think we have reached an impass, Cho. Our maturity levels are too diverse to coexist with each other." He glared stoically with tinges of ice.

"I no longer wish to partake in a romantic relationship with you."

* * *

Luckily, Ulquiorra was able to dodge the hex with a hasty shield charm.

* * *

"Well, Potter, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into the sixth and seventh years," said Professor McGonagall. "Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?"

"I have highly considered becoming an Auror." Ulquiorra promptly answered, ignoring the irritating noise of Umbridge's quill.

"You'd need top grades for that," said Professor McGonagall, extracting a small, dark leaflet from under the mass on her desk and opening it. "They ask for a minimum of five NEWTs, and nothing under "Exceeds Expectations" grade, I see. Then you would be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It's a difficult career path, Potter, they only take the best. In fact, I don't think anybody has been taken on in the last three years."

At this moment, Professor Umbridge gave a very tiny cough, as though she was trying to see how quietly she could do it. Professor McGonagall ignored her.

"You'll want to know which subjects you ought to take?" she went on, talking a little louder than before.

"Yes," said Ulquiorra. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, I suppose?" _**Gee, I wonder.**_

"Naturally," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "I would also advise -"

Professor Umbridge gave another cough, a little more audible this time. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though nothing had happened.

"I would also advise Transfiguration, because Aurors frequently need to Transfigure or Untransfigure in their work. And I ought to tell you now, Potter, that I do not accept students into my NEWT classes unless they have achieved "Exceeds Expectations" or higher at Ordinary Wizarding Level, though that does not seem to be a problem. Then you ought to do Charms, always useful, and Potions. Poisons and antidotes are essential study for Aurors. And I must tell you that Professor Snape absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than "Outstanding" in their OWLs, so -"

Professor Umbridge gave her most pronounced cough yet.

"May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?" Professor McGonagall asked curtly, without looking at Professor Umbridge.

"Oh, no, thank you very much," said Umbridge, with that simpering laugh Ulquiorra hated so much. "I just wondered whether I could make the teensiest interruption, Minerva?"

"I daresay you'll find you can," said Professor McGonagall through tightly gritted teeth.

"I was just wondering whether Mr Potter has quite the temperament for an Auror?" said Professor Umbridge sweetly. _Oh, god._

_**This is going to be ugly. Uglier than-**_

_Do __**not **__say Arrogante._

_**I wasn't! ...I was going to say **__**Glotonería.**_

"Were you?" said Professor McGonagall haughtily. "Well, Potter, if you are serious in this ambition, just continue to keep your grades as they are, since there is no problem. As for Defence Against the Dark Arts, your marks have been exceptionally high, Professor Lupin in particular thought you - are you quite sure you wouldn't like a cough drop, Dolores?"

"Oh, no need, thank you, Minerva" simpered Professor Umbridge, who had just coughed her loudest yet. "I was just concerned that you might not have Harry's most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I'm quite sure I slipped in a note."

"What, this thing?" said Professor McGonagall in a tone of revulsion, as she pulled a sheet of pink parchment from between the leaves of Ulquiorra's folder. She glanced down it, her eyebrows slightly raised, then placed it back into the folder without comment. Ulquiorra sat silently, his instincts roaring:

_Catfight Alert! Catfight Alert! Find and walk to the nearest exit as quickly as possible!_

Fortunately, he managed somehow to resist these urges.

"Yes, as I was saying, Potter, Professor Lupin thought you showed a pronounced aptitude for the subject, and obviously for an Auror -"

"Did you not understand my note, Minerva?" asked Professor Umbridge in honeyed tones.

"Of course I understood it," said Professor McGonagall, her teeth clenched so tightly the words came out a little muffled.

"Well, then, I am confused… I'm afraid I don't quite understand how you can give Mr Potter false hope that -"

"False hope?" repeated Professor McGonagall, still refusing to look round at Professor Umbridge. "He has achieved high marks in all his Defence Against the Dark Arts tests -" _**Damn straight.**_

"I'm terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Minerva, but as you will see from my note, Harry has been achieving very poor results in his classes with me -" _...That's because we do not do anything and you don't like me._

"I should have made my meaning plainer," said Professor McGonagall, turning at last to look Umbridge directly in the eyes. "He has achieved high marks in all Defence Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher."

…

_**Oh Snap! **__**Does she need some ice for that burn?  
**_

Professor Umbridge's smile vanished as suddenly as a light bulb exploding. She sat back in her chair, turned a sheet on her clipboard and began scribbling very fast indeed, her bulging eyes rolling from side to side. Professor McGonagall turned back to Ulquiorra, her thin nostrils flared, her eyes burning.

"Any questions, Potter?"

"Yes," said Ulquiorra. "What sort of character and aptitude tests must you take to become an Auror?"

"Well, you'll need to demonstrate the ability to react well to pressure and so forth,"

_Check._

"perseverance and dedication,"

_Check. _

"because Auror training takes a further three years, not to mention very high skills in practical Defence. It will mean a lot more study even after you've left school, so unless you're prepared to -"

"I think you'll also find," said Umbridge, her voice very cold now, "that the Ministry looks into the records of those applying to be Aurors. Their criminal records. Potter has a criminal record," said Umbridge loudly. _...I was cleared of all charges._

_**He was cleared of all charges!**_

"Potter has been cleared of all charges," said McGonagall, even more loudly.

Professor Umbridge stood up. She was so short that this did not make a great deal of difference, but her fussy, simpering demeanor had given place to a hard fury that made her broad, flabby face look oddly sinister.

"Potter has no chance whatsoever of becoming an Auror!" _CATFIGHT! CATFIGHT! WITHDRAW FROM THE AREA! REPEAT, WITHDRAW FROM THE AREA!_

Professor McGonagall got to her feet, too, and in her case this was a much more impressive move.

"Potter," she said in ringing tones, "I will assist you to become an Auror if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results!"

"The Minister for Magic will never employ Harry Potter!" said Umbridge, her voice rising furiously.

"There may well be a new Minister for Magic by the time Potter is ready to join!" shouted Professor McGonagall.

"Aha!" shrieked Professor Umbridge, pointing a stubby finger at McGonagall. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That's what you want, isn't it, Minerva McGonagall? You want Cornelius Fudge replaced by Albus Dumbledore! You think you'll be where I am, don't you: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!" _...What? That makes no sense._

_**Seriously.**_

**She is clearly impaired in some shape or form.**

…

_**Oh, that's Nejibana. We're chilling.**_

_...-sigh-_

"You are raving," said Professor McGonagall, superbly disdainful. "Potter, that concludes our careers consultation."

_Freedom! _

* * *

Ulquiorra smirked satisfactorily at the beaming twins. Really, that portable swamp was genius...and Ulquiorra hated that type of climate.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley - Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," Fred said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge. Ulquiorra let out a small, and uncharacteristic chuckle. Really, it was just _too_ good.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."And Peeves, who Ulquiorra had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the sunset.

The entire situation was pretty cliché.

Epic; but cliché.

* * *

"You did not seriously do what I think you did." Ulquiorra moaned softly.

"I couldn' leave him," said Hagrid, tears now trickling down his bruised face into his beard. "See - he's my brother!"

"Regardless Hagrid, you brought a _giant_ back with you!"

_**And you promised him that'd you'd look after him.**_

_...Fuck._

_**Tch. Moron.**_

_**

* * *

**_

_**We totally owned those exams.**_

_...Whose 'we'?_

_**Hey, you preformed a patronus for them! I helped!**_

_...Indeed._

_

* * *

_

Ulquiorra had to make an important decision. A decision that could change the stability of his world, his very well being and happiness.

Pass or Fail Divination.

"Failed it." Ulquiorra told Ron smugly. Ron blinked. "...Uh, cool?"

* * *

_**Cheap Shot! **_Murciélago yelled out indignantly as Ulquiorra and the rest of the fifth years taking the Astronomy exam watched as the dark figures below shoot McGonagall in the chest with four stunners as she moved to assist Hagrid. They hit her simultaneously, encasing her body in a red glow, and she was pushed back and did not move.

"Galloping gargoyles!" shouted Professor Tofty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. "Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!"

"COWARDS!" bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT - AN' THAT -"

"Oh my -" gasped Hermione.

Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold.

"Get him, get him!" screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid's fists, since he wasn't a total moron. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with the knocked out Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

History of Magic...god, he _hated_ History of Magic. Why would he need to know all this? Finishing the stupidly useless test, he laid down his quill and ran a pale hand through his hair. He had finished very early, the test being painfully easy, by his standards, and he didn't feel like pretending to have a average human intelligence at the moment. Even Hermione was still finishing up. _Damn that girl_, Ulquiorra thought, tiredly watching Shiba as he doodled on scratch paper (he _was_ a prodigy after all), _her and her desperation for perfection._ He thought this with some lazy affection, as Hermione had forced them to study until 1 in the morning until Shiba told her that lack of sleep often affected test results negatively.

Yes...sleep sounded nice...

_He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, determined to reach his destination at last… the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors…_

_Straight across the stone floor and through the second door… patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry…_

_He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others…_

_He was in a cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres… his heart was beating very fast now… he was going to get there this time… when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows… Ulquiorra blinked. **Ah, this dream again. I wonder what I shall learn today...**_

_But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal… Ulquiorra's stomach contracted with fear… with excitement…_

_A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness…_

"_Take it for me… lift it down, now… I cannot touch it… but you can..."_

_The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Ulquiorra saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm… heard the high, cold voice say "Crucio!"_

_The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Voldemort was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless._

"_Lord Voldemort is waiting..."_

_Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance…_

"_You'll have to kill me," whispered Sirius._

"_Undoubtedly I shall in the end," said the cold voice. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black… you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream…"_

Ulquiorra's eyes snapped awake as he felt the distant prickling of his agitated scar. It no longer burned with Ulquiorra's lazy Occulmency in effect. _Hmmm...I know only I or Voldemort can get the prophecy, so this is obviously a trap. But these visions are tiring, and will continue as long as the dammed thing exists. And if I don't steal it first..._

_Voldemort will. Personally._

_

* * *

_

Kaien blinked as origami spider crawled up his leg and into his palm. Resting it's eight delicate legs on his calloused tan skin, it keeled over and folded open.

_Shiba,_

_I am going to the Ministry and stealing a prophecy that Voldemort is after from the Department of Mysteries. I intend to steal it before he does and destroy it. His patience is running thin and if I don't steal it, he personally will. I will be pretending to rescue Sirius Black from torture. So, do you wish to partake in an mission that will most likely get ourselves killed?_

_Schiffer_

Kaien raised an eyebrow.

_...Since when has Ulquiorra been able to do origami?_

_

* * *

_

"Hermione! Get over here!"

"Honestly, Ronald. What-?"

"Look at this!"

"...!"

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Nothing!"

"Well, something must be going on. That is why you're gaping like the Wrackspurts got you. Don't worry, I can tell they haven't."

"Hey Ginny. What's up?"

"Hey Neville. I dunno...Hey what's on that paper-"

"...!"

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_ Sirius is being tortured by Lord Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Mysteries. You know why. I have gone to rescue him._

_Harry James Potter_

_P.S. Shita is accompanying me, and says hi._

_**Hi! See you later. Well, hopefully, since we could, you know, kick the bucket. Or push up daisies. Or be buried six feet under. Or-**_

_Shita says his farewells._

_

* * *

_

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Ulquiorra Schiffer and Shiba Kaien; here to steal a prophecy concerning my fate."

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Two badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Kaien scooped them out and handed Ulquiorra's badge to him, staring at his own curiously. "...Huh. It actually says, _Shiba Kaien: Recon Mission." _

_

* * *

_

This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the center of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet deep. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheater. There was a raised stone dais in the center of the pit, on which stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked and crumbling. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.

Ulquiorra jumped down the benches nimbly, staring into the veil. He could swear he heard the woman calling for him. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked slowly towards the dais. The pointed archway looked much taller from where he now stood than it had when he'd been looking down on it from above. Still the veil swayed gently, as though somebody had just passed through it. Kaien joined him, also staring curiously at it.

He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping his wand, he edged around the dais, but there was nobody there; all that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil.

"Dude." Kaien breathed in apprehension and slight longing. "We have to get out of here." Ulquiorra joined him back on the other side of the veil and nodded slowly, but didn't move. "Yes..."

"_Ulquiorra...Ulquiorra...come here with me...I miss you..."_

"C'mon. We'll come back. Eventually." Kaien said brightly, and shook Ulquiorra back to his senses. Ulquiorra nodded, knowing somehow, they would be back.

Eventually.

* * *

"Professor! Professor!"

"What is it, Granger? I don't have the time to be asked some pointless question about your exams. Ten-"

"No Professor Snape!"

"It's urgent! Uh, sir."

"Here! Harry's gone!"

"...I see. That fool...too much like his father."

* * *

"Is this it? It's got your name on it," said Kaien, pointing to a small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years.

He stepped forwards. Not as tall as Kaien, the stupidly tall bastard, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter_

"Ah. So this is it."

"I guess so man."

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me." Ulquiorra and Kaien whirled around to face a swarm of Death Eaters. And at the front was-

Malfoy.

Phfft. Figures.

* * *

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S GONE TO THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC?"

"It means what it means, you mangy dog."

"That bastard..."

"Indeed. How foolish-"

"HOW DARE THAT LITTLE BAT BASTARD DO SOMETHING SO FUN! _WITHOUT_ ME! I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!"

"...I hate you so much."

"Ditto, you stupid dog."

"Scrawny cat."

"Mutt."

"Sneak."

"...You're both morons."

**"HEY!**"

* * *

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," said Malfoy coolly. Kaien raised his eyebrows. "Right..." He drawled sarcastically. "And you'll just let us skip home on our merry way, completely unharmed? Puh-lease." He drew out the word, and made a strange hand gesture that Ulquiorra assumed was some type of American slang.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked, "Accto proph-"

Ulquiorra was ready for her: drawing his wand in a blocking motion, he luxuriously said "Protego". The prophecy stayed in his grasp.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. "Very well, then -"

"Who are you?" Ulquiorra asked calmly. "Which pathetic rats has Voldemort sent on this endeavor?"

Several of the Death Eaters hissed uncomfortably and shifted in agitation.

"You dare speak his name?" whispered the woman, who Ulquiorra guessed was Bellatrix Lestrange. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Obviously. I have no problem with saying Vol-"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare -"

"He is half-blood as well. I do not see why you are so offended." Ulquiorra say flippantly. "Muggle father, witch mother. Calm yourself, girl."

"STUPEF-!"

"NO!"

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Ulquiorra and several of the glass orbs there shattered.

Two figures, pearly-white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak; their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts.

It was all useless to Ulquiorra, but it gave him an idea. "Shita," He whispered, grateful for the loud Death Eaters. "Smash the shelves when I say."

"Righto Quatro."

* * *

"Colloportus!" Ulquiorra commanded, the door sealing behind him and Kaien shut. "So, what's the plan now?" Kaien asked curiously, staring at the yellowish dusty orb in Ulquiorra's palm. Ulquiorra smirked.

"Stay alive."

"Sweet."

* * *

Ulquiorra and Kaien were surrounded. Ulquiorra frowned, trying to find a logical escape route from the amphitheater, but the whispers of the veil was distracting. Kaien beamed at the Death Eaters cheerfully. "Ne, looks like we're surrounded." He remarked breezily. "What to do, what to do?" Ulquiorra raised his wand so fast his arm blurred.

"Aquamenti." Ulquiorra said and a powerful jet of water hit the Death Eaters, who flailed in the strong blast of iciness. Kaien smirked and raised his wand. A powerful stream of wind burst from the tip, and the water froze on the Death Eaters robes, locking them in place. The spun in a circle, freezing all of the surrounding enemies. Except...

"Cruci-!" The teen wizards whirled, wands raised, to counterattck the estranged Lestrange when two doors slammed open. Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley and...

"...Jaggerjaques?"

"Hey you bastard!" Grimmjow yelled out, snake like ropes slithering out of his wand and binding a Death Eater and sending him to the floor. "Wassup?" Kaien blinked. "So _that's _what you look like blonde." He marveled happily. "Glad I finally got to see it!" Lucius stiffened. "_You!"_ he snarled, wand rasied. Grimmjow grinned. "'Sup bitch? Wanna rematch?" Malfoy growled and shot a curse towards him, and Grimmjow deflected it, grinning all the way. The rest of the order members sprinted past him, engaging in battle. Curses, jinxes, and hexes zoomed overhead; Ulquiorra and Kaien sending their own spells toward the enemy. "Avis." Ulquiorra summoned the happy birds with a loud bang and immediately afterwards commanded, "Opungo." The once cheerful ravens turned hostile and began to peck and claw at the Death Eaters eyes and mouths. Ulquiorra gasped as his glasses jolted and his airway was blocked as he was caught in a chokehold.

"Give it to me," growled a voice in his ear, "give me the prophecy -" Ulquiorra drove an elbow into the man's diaphragm and slipped out of the chokehold as the Death Eater gasped for air, slamming his fist backwards, colliding with the sensitive collarbone. "Incarcerous." Thick cords bound the choking bastard and Ulquiorra tore the mask from his face. Macnair, Buckbeak's would be executioner.

* * *

Ulquiorra watched, as if it was happening in slow motion, as the curse soared towards Sirius. It was just an inch away...

...and hit Shiba Kaien as he pushed the older ex-convict to the side.

The veil seemed to sway toward Kaien in joy as his body gracefully fell towards it; welcoming it's victim. Kaien flicked his aqua eyes and stared into Ulquiorra wide horrified ones. He smiled dreamily.

"ga...te...see...Mi...yako..." He whispered faintly, before he was swallowed by the wispy mist of the veil and vanished.

* * *

"...Shiba..." Ulquiorra ran towards the veil and simply stared at the swaying enticement of the archway. "Shiba." His reistu was gone. He was dead.

The arch whispered, _Miyako._

* * *

"You have my prophecy don't you Harry?" Voldemort's crooned softly. He held out his hand, ignoring the sniveling Bellatrix's at his feet. "Hand it over, and I might even spare you." Ulquiorra glared at him calmly. "I doubt that." He bent down and set the prophecy gently on the ground, and stood up. He kicked it towards Voldemort, and it rolled slowly towards him; he bent down to pick it up...

Ulquiorra pointed his wand at the orb, unnoticed by the two Dark wizards and intoned coldly, "Reducto." The prophecy exploded in a whirlwind of shattered glass, Voldemort's scarlet eyes widened comically in shock. A figure with large eyes rose from the orb, about to proclaim the orb's contents.

_Scream._

_**Righto.**_

His quirky and faithful Zanpaktou appeared next to him, in all her demon woman glory, and screamed; a terrible high pitched wail emitting from her black lips. The prophecy continued monotonously, however, no one heard it thanks to Murciélago's bat-like shrieks. Only when the misty figure faded away to nothing, did she stop wailing and disappear back to Ulquiorra's inner world with a satisfied smile.

* * *

"Dumbledore!"

Ulquiorra looked behind him indifferently. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates.

Voldemort, now ignoring Ulquiorra, raised his wand and another jet of green light streaked at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak. Next second, he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand towards the remnants of the fountain. The statues sprang to life. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. The one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. A headless statue thrust Ulquiorra backwards, away from the fight, as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around them both.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "The Aurors are on their way-"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!" spat Voldemort. He sent another killing curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame.

Dumbledore flicked his own wand: the force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Ulquiorra, though shielded by his golden guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gong-like note reverberated from it.

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk towards Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit-"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" snarled Voldemort. _Not true at all. Well, __**your**__ death will suck, since you are destined to become a Hollow, but Death on a whole is not that bad I would guess._

"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. Ulquiorra felt unease still in his vein and lace his blood. It was not that he was afraid for Dumbledore, he was unnerved at the similarities between his teacher and his old master. His former creator was calm, leisurely, and disguised condensing remarks with simple observations in the battlefield and off.

Just like Dumbledore. Dumbledore, who bathed in secrecy, like Aizen.

Dumbledore, who fathered manipulation and lies, like Aizen.

"Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness-"

Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. This time it was the one-armed centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold on Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore.

Voldemort vanished; the snake reared from the floor, ready to strike. There was a burst of flame in midair above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood. Another jet of green light flew at Dumbledore from Voldemort's wand and the snake struck. Fawkes, the faithful phoenix, swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide and swallowed the jet of green light whole.

Ulquiorra stared as he burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one long, fluid movement - the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke. Ulquiorra gazed as the water in the pool rose up and covered Voldemort like a cocoon of molten glass. It reminded him of a snow globe for some reason.

For a few seconds Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass. Then he was gone and the water fell with a crash back into its pool, slopping wildly over the sides, drenching the polished floor, leaving Bellatrix screaming for him behind.

* * *

"Cornelius, I am ready to fight your men - and win, again!" said Dumbledore in a thunderous voice. "But a few minutes ago you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for a year. Lord Voldemort has returned, you have been chasing the wrong man for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!"

"I - don't - well-" blustered Fudge, looking around as though hoping somebody was going to tell him what to do. When nobody did, he said, "Very well - Dawlish! Williamson! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see… Dumbledore, you - you will need to tell me exactly - the Fountain of Magical Brethren - what happened?" he added in a kind of whimper, staring around at the floor, where the remains of the statues of the witch, wizard and centaur now lay scattered.

"We can discuss that after I have sent Harry back to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"Harry - Harry Potter?" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes.

"No. I'm Serverus Snape." Ulquiorra drawled sarcastically, taking some joy in Fudge's flustered expression.

Fudge wheeled around and stared at Ulquiorra, who was still standing against the wall beside the fallen statue that had guarded him during Dumbledore and Voldemort's duel.

"He - here?" said Fudge, goggling at Ulquiorra, who gave a mocking little nod. "Why - what's all this about?"

"I shall explain everything," repeated Dumbledore, "when Harry is back at school."

He walked away from the pool to the place where the golden wizard's head lay on the floor. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Portus."

"Now see here, Dumbledore!" said Fudge, as Dumbledore picked up the head and walked back to Ulquiorra carrying it. "You haven't got authorization for that Portkey! You can't do things like that right in front of the Minister for Magic, you – you"

"You will give the order to remove Dolores Umbridge from Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures teacher so that he can return to work. I will give you …" Dumbledore pulled a watch with twelve hands from his pocket and surveyed it "...half an hour of my time tonight, in which I think we shall be more than able to cover the important points of what has happened here. After that, I shall need to return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Hogwarts. Letters addressed to the Headmaster will find me."

Dumbledore turned his back on him. "Take this Portkey, Harry."

He held out the golden head of the statue and Ulquiorra placed his hand on it.

"I shall see you in half an hour," said Dumbledore quietly "One … two … three …"

* * *

Ulquiorra listened dully as Dumbledore explained all the things that Ulquiorra already knew. Explained about Kreacher, and Voldemort, and the fear of possesion. It was all useless to him; Shiba had died. He recruited him, and he died.

"It is time," Dumbledore said, "for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me - to do whatever you like - when I have finished. I will not stop you."

Ulquiorra waited.

Dumbledore stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window, then looked back at Ulquiorra and said, "Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well - not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep."

He paused. Ulquiorra said nothing.

"You might ask why it had to be so. Why could some wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honored and delighted to raise you as a son.

"My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but I realized. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters were still at large, angry, desperate and violent. And I had to make my decision, too, with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone for ever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure, too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you.

"I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power.

"But I knew, too, where Voldemort was weak. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."

"She does not love me," said Ulquiorra at once. "She does not give a damn -"

"But she took you," Dumbledore cut across him. "She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you."

"What-?"

"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, whilst you are there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."

* * *

"Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you."

The sun had risen fully now: Dumbledore's office was bathed in it. The glass case in which the sword of Godric Gryffindor resided gleamed white and opaque. Ulquiorra blinked slowly.

"I destroyed the prophecy." Ulquiorra said. "It is nothing more than shards of glass now."

"The thing that smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly.

"On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave."

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked past Ulquiorra to the black cabinet and took from inside it the shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the edges. Dumbledore walked back to the desk, placed the Pensieve upon it, and raised his wand to his own temple. From it, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought clinging to the wand and deposited them into the basin. He sat back down behind his desk and watched his thoughts swirl and drift inside the Pensieve for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.

A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and she revolved slowly; her feet in the basin. But when Sybill Trelawney spoke, it was not in her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in the harsh, hoarse tones Ulquiorra had heard her use once before:

_The one with the power to vanquish the- Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives … the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies …_

…

…

_...So I am destined to kill Voldemort, or be killed by him. ...Fabulous._

_

* * *

_

"The odd thing, Harry," he said softly, "is that it may not have meant you at all. Sybill's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom." Ulquiorra twitched.

"Why did Voldemort choose me? Why not Neville." said Ulquiorra.

"He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him," said Dumbledore. "And notice this, Harry: he chose, not the pureblood (which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing) but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far - something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved."

"Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then-"

"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course," said Dumbledore, "except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head inn, which Sybill chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assurpe you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sybill Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My - our - one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."

"He heard only the beginning, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you, and marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait, to learn more. He did not know that you would have power the Dark Lord knows not-" _Oh, you have __**no**__ idea._

"We are destined to kill the other or die." Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Yes."

_**...Manipulative bastard.**_

_**

* * *

**_

_HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS_

_In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned to this country and is once more active._

"_It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord - well, you know who I mean - is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the Dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the Dementors are currently taking direction from Lord – Thingy."_

_"We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence which will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the coming month. "_

_The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more"._

_Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening._

_Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has so far been unavailable for comment. He has insisted over the past year that You-Know-Who is not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but is recruiting followers once more for afresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the "Boy Who Lived" -_

"There you are, Harry, I knew they'd drag you into it somehow," said Hermione, looking over the top of the paper at him. Ulquiorra looked up at her from his eggs. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna (for some reason) had been very upset and downright murderous when he had returned from the Ministry. Ron had sworn to never forgive him.

Until Ulquiorra said, "Kyle is dead."

They forgave him pretty quickly afterward, not wanting to add to his guilt.

Then Grimmjow came.

Things got pretty awkward from there.

Considering that the second he laid his eyes on Ginny, he turned to Ulquiorra and said, "_What_ is with you and red heads?"

"..."

_**EEEEEE! PANTERA!**_

**Bonjour.**

_..._

* * *

"I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. We are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Days ago, a student was taken from our midst. Remember Kyle. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember Kyle Shita."

* * *

"Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, grasping Ulquiorra's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.

"Take care, Harry," said Lupin quietly. Ulquiorra stiffened as Sirius gave him a gruff hug. "Keep in touch."

"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs Weasley whispered, hugging him.

"We'll see you soon, mate," said Ron anxiously, shaking Ulquiorra's hand.

"Really soon, Harry" said Hermione earnestly. "We promise."

Ulquiorra nodded. He turned to Grimmjow, who stared down at him knowingly. They both knew where Kaien would go, and they both were content that he would not go down the darker path. Once again, they were the last one's left.

"Stay alive, bastard."

"You too, imbecile."

* * *

Snap. The sound of something breaking rang clear in the wind. He flew and tumbled through the strangely silent vortex; his chest felt heavy. Then, he was light and fluttering. He bobbed like air itself down the tunnel, colors and sounds no longer existing. Then with a jolt, the colors and sounds roared back, and he slammed into hard wood floor with a yell, the sound of something light and solid cluttered against the ground, along with the sound of something heavy and metallic clanging down next to him.

"OW!" Groaning, he looked up.

Ten people surrounded him, six on his left and four on his right. One faced him directly. They wore white coats, black uniforms, and carried swords. They all gaped at him. He grinned sheepishly, recognizing them.

"...Uh, hi?"

* * *

**A/N: Aren't I evil? Review please! Oh, and according to Wikipeida, Despair is like some sort of mini/sub-sin.  
**

**_Maître Leroy, un cadeau de Noël est arrivé pour vous_**: **Master Leroy, a Christmas present has arrived for you**

**_Ces__ bâtards: _Those bastards**

**_Maître: _Master**

**_Madre de-!: _Mother of-!**

**If the translation or grammer is wrong, i'm sorry. Blame google translate.  
**


	8. Year 6: Envy

**A/N: Hi. Uh, it's been awhile -author cowers in meekness- Um. Yeah. There was a lot of school stuff, then me and Bleach had a falling out (THIS STORY WILL BE COMPLETED. I REPEAT, STORY WILL BE COMPLETED) so yeah. Like Year 5, this is split into two parts, so enjoy!**

**I don't own Bleach or Harry Potter.**

_**Year 6: Envy**_

"I can assure you," Kaien said firmly, "there is a completely logical explanation to this." They continued to gape. "...Just let me think of one first." Kaien continued, thinking hard. _Dammit, Kaien. What do I tell them? _The former Vice Captain mentally wailed, his inner chibi self spazzing frantically. _Help me, Nejibana!_

**_Sorry Kai, but you're screwed. I see no other way to put it._** His Zanpaktou said apologetically. Kaien cursed.

"..._Kaien?"_ Ukitake stared, open-mouthed, as his Vice Captain and the man he saw as his son turned to face him. Kaien blinked, grinned, and waved. "Hey, Ukitake Taicho!" He said cheerily, momentarily forgetting that he had died, fell through a frickin' veil, and landed smack in the middle of a Captain's meeting. "How are you? You look healthy." He added as a happy afterthought. It was good to see color in the Captain. Ukitake blinked in total shock, not really registering what had happened. "You're alive?" Kaien frowned, remembering. "Well, no," Kaien said thoughtfully. "I mean, this is Soul Society, and so I _have_ to be dead." He trailed off, looking around at all the Captains curiously. It all looked the same except...

"Who the hell are you?" Kaien asked, pointing at Kurosaki Ichigo, Captain of Squad 5.

...C'mon, he _had _to get his powers back somehow. It's standard plot procedure.

"Kurosaki Ichigo." Ichigo said, confused. Who the hell was this guy, and why did he look so much like himself? Kaien stared, baffled. "You mean..." He said in awe, pointing to the bewildered Ichigo, "_you're _the one who killed Ulquiorra!" Ichigo's mouth dropped open. How the hell did know-?

"Man, no wonder he hates you so much!" Kaien marveled, a smile blossoming on his face at discovering this bizarre mystery. "You're everything he hates rolled up in a compact little package!"

"...What the hell do you mean, 'no wonder he hates me so much'? Why are you using present tense?"

"...Crap."

* * *

"Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?" Ulquiorra raised his eyes from his book, _A Clockwork Orange_. _Ah, Dumbledore_. The summer had been very disappointing, thanks to Dumbledore. He could've spent it with Sirius, who had offered to take him traveling to some renowned wizarding sites, but Dumbledore insisted on continuing the protective magic that his mother's sacrifice enabled. Irksome. Marking his page, he languidly stood and exited his room, carrying his trunk with him.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that I was coming," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."

Ulquiorra descended the stairs with the elegance and dignity of a king, glancing at his esteemed professor. "Professor Dumbledore." He nodded, acknowledging the Headmaster's existence. Dumbledore turned to him beaming. "Ah, Harry-" He cut off, his beaming elderly face replaced with some satisfying shock. Ulquiorra smirked smugly. "Yes, Professor? Is something wrong?" Dumbledore shook his head, a wary smile on his face again. "Nothing at all, dear boy." Dumbledore remarked, "I was just taking in the recent change in appearance." Ulquiorra's smirk widened. "Oh? Do you like it?"

"...The tattoos are...unusual."

"_Alright." The two former Espada stood outside the renowned tattoo parlor. "This is it." Grimmjow turned to him. "Are you sure this is it?" Ulquiorra sighed. "Of course you moron. Let's go." They strode inside and walked up to the counter. The bored and ink covered woman glanced up at the two handsome men. She seemed more interested all of a sudden. "How may I help you?" She said in a flirtatious voice and Ulquiorra sighed. "We want to get tattoos, obviously." Grimmjow was looking around uninterestedly, not even bothering to tune into the conversation. The woman looked flustered at the cool and unspoken dismissal. "Of course." she muttered. "Rooms 1 and 4 are available. Just go through that door." She pointed to the door at the back of the room. "Thank you for doing your job competently." Ulquiorra said and strolled towards the door, Grimmjow following._

_They split up at room one, Grimmjow entering and Ulquiorra striding ahead. Ulquiorra didn't bother knocking and entered. "Yo." The grinning man looked to be in his early twenties and turned to face him. He had long black hair, an eyepatch, and a large disturbing smile. The smile slid off and they stared at each other, baffled. Ulquiorra sighed. "Hello Nnoitora." Nnoitora scowled. "Hey."_

"_You know what I want."_

"_Emo tear track tatts?"_

"_...If you must call it that."_

"_Black or green?"_

"_Black."_

"_Normal or Ressurection style?"_

"_Ressurection __Segunda Etapa__."_

"_...What?"_

_After 10 minutes explaining what _S_egunda Etapa looked like and_ _10 minutes of the odd feeling of a needle drawing on his face, Ulquiorra stared, pleased, into a mirror. "Nnoitora." Ulquiorra said, turning to the former Quinta. "Do you have any abnormal abilities in this life?" Nnoitora let out a 'Tch'-ing noise. "Nope. Just a normal tattoo artist." He said, twiddling the needle between his fingers. "Why?" Ulquiorra frowned. "No reason. In that case, I propose that I leave, never come back here again, and forget this ever happened."_

"_Deal."_

"And it is surprising to see your hair so...manageable."

_Ulquiorra woke up one morning and brushed his messy hair out of his eyes. ...Wait, his hair didn't get into his eyes, being a spiky, uncontrollable mess. He stood up and opened his wardrobe, peering into the mirror. Silky shaggy strands lay in place of his normal Potter catastrophe, covering the back of his neck completely. Ulquiorra easily ran his hair threw it, immensely pleased with the strange change in appearance. "Excellent. Now all I need is to get my despair back."_

"And the lack of glasses is peculiar."

_Ulquiorra bought eye contacts. And burned his glasses with relish._

* * *

"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort Was returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him ;as though he were your own."

Dumbledore paused, and Ulquiorra felt an Aizen-esque chill emanating from him and noticed that the Dursleys drew very slightly closer together like a pack of Stark's wolves.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around instinctively, as though expecting to see someone other than Dudley squeezed between them.

"Us — mistreat Dudders? What d'you — ?" began Uncle Vernon furiously, but Dumbledore raised his finger for silence.

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

* * *

"Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," Horace Slughorn said bluntly. His pale gooseberry eyes had found Dumbledore's injured hand. "Reactions not what they were, I see."

"You're quite right," said Dumbledore serenely, shaking back his sleeve to reveal the tips of those burned and blackened fingers; the sight of them made the back of Ulquiorra's neck prickle unpleasantly. There was a foul reiatsu on his hand, and it pulsed darkly. It was uncomfortably familiar. "I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other hand . . ."

He shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to say that age had its compensations, and Ulquiorra noticed a ring on his uninjured hand that he had never seen Dumbledore wear before: It was large, rather clumsily made of what looked like gold, and was set with a heavy black stone that had cracked down the middle. Slughorn's eyes lingered for a moment on the ring too, and Ulquiorra saw a tiny frown momentarily crease his wide forehead.

* * *

"You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother," Slughorn added, in answer to Ulquiorra's questioning look. "Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."

"Which was your House?"

"I was Head of Slytherin," said Slughorn. Ulquiorra looked politely intrigued, though suffering intense boredom on the inside. Murciélago was sleeping, lucky bat. "You'll be Gryffindor like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though. Ever heard of Sirius Black? You must have done, he's been in the papers the last few years. Just been proven innocent! Well, anyway, he was a big pal of your father's at school. The whole Black family had been in my House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame — he was a talented boy. I got his brother, Regulus, when he came along, but I'd have liked the set."

He sounded like an enthusiastic collector who had been outbid at auction. Apparently lost in memories, he gazed at the opposite wall, turning idly on the spot to ensure an even heat on his backside.

"Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn't believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good."

"One of my... _friends," _Saying the term, 'friend' still sounded bizarre to Ulquiorra, "is Muggle-born," said Ulquiorra, "and she's one of the best in our year."

* * *

"The Hogwarts staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, correct?" Ulquiorra pressed subtly. He noticed what his purpose here was, and although he was irritated at Dumbledore's weak manipulation, Slughorn's employment would benefit him as well.

Slughorn gazed into space for a moment or two: He seemed to be thinking over Ulquiorra's words.

"Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore," he muttered grudgingly. "And I suppose one could argue that as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can hardly count me a friend . . . in which case, I might well be safer a little closer to Albus. . . . I cannot pretend that Amelia Bones's death did not shake me. . . . If she, with all her Ministry contacts and protection . . ."

* * *

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes," said Slughorn impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," said Dumbledore, beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

* * *

"On a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year."

"Private lessons?"

"Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education."

What exactly will these lessons be regarding?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Dumbledore airily. Ulquiorra's eyebrows turned down slightly and replied just as airily. "Why should I take these lessons when I don't know what they are regarding? It seems pointless to enroll in a course when you have no idea what the course _is._" Dumbledore beamed, though Ulquiorra detected the wary tremble in his spirit force.

"Touché, Harry! I am afraid I cannot divulge much information now, but it does concern Voldemort." Dumbledore said apologetically, and Ulquiorra nodded. _Good enough. For now._

"Then I will be happy to accept the extra lessons."

"Wonderful! Ah, I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are."

* * *

"Who's there?" said a nervous voice he recognized as Mrs. Weasley's. "Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry."

The door opened at once. There stood Mrs. Weasley, short, plump, and wearing an old green dressing gown. Breathless, her eyes shot to Ulquiorra and widened comically as she let out a small shriek, pointing at his face.

"...It's nice to see you too, Mrs. Weasely."

* * *

Ulquiorra was awakened from blissful sleep by what sounded like cannon fire as the door burst open. Cursing and burying his body deeper into the bedding and his face into the pillow, he heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: The dammed dazzling sunlight seemed to burn him through the blanket curled around him.

"We didn't know you were here already!" said a loud and excited voice, and he received a sharp blow to the top of the head, fully waking both Ulquiorra and Murciélago.

_GOD**/AIZEN DAMMIT!**_

"Ron, don't hit him!" said Hermione reproachfully. Ron raised his hand to playfully smack Ulquiorra's head again, but Ulquiorra caught his wrist, his face still buried in pillows. Reflexively, he flipped Ron over, and Ron somersaulted in air for a moment before landing spreadeagled on the floor. "Ow..." Ulquiorra rolled over, sat up, head down, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tch...I despise mornings." Ron sat up dazed. "Blimey, mate." He grinned weakly. "Did you have to flip me over?" He paused. "How did you do that anyway?" Ulquiorra sighed. Ron suddenly laughed. "What's with your nails?" Hermione crept closer, interested and frowned. Her voice was disapproving, and she sounded like a fussy mother fretting over her precious child. "Is that _black nail polish?"_

Ulquiorra didn't appreciate the tone. "Yes. Is that a problem?" he asked, looking up and glaring. Hermione, like Mrs. Weasely, shrieked, only louder. Ron jolted to his feet, yelling, "BLIMEY!" Ulquiorra growled quietly, discontent with the noise and his blurry surroundings. Reaching the small case on the nightstand, he put in his contacts, blinking as the world buzzed into focus. He was greeted with the sight of Hermione gaping, palms on her cheeks, and Ron, pale faced and goggling. "Good morning." He said sarcastically. Ron pointed at his face, or more specifically, his tattoos. "What the hell?" Ulquiorra yawned and glanced at Ron lazily. "It's rude to point."

Ron stopped pointing.

"As you can see, I have decided to...make some slight changes to my appearance." Ulquiorra said, moving to get up and Ron flailed about spastically. "THAT'S NOT SLIGHT! And Mum is bringing up a tray, she reckons you look underfed."

"Harry!" Hermione sounded scandalized, gesturing to his face and hair. "What were you thinking?" Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying it looks bad?" Hermione blushed. "O-Of course not." She stammered, and Ron scowled. "But Harry-" Ulquiorra leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes. "Then I do not see a problem then." Hermione sputtered. Ron, being a guy, was able to get over the drastic change in appearance first. "So, what's been going on? Besides the sudden interest in tattoos, that is." Ron added hastily, seeing a snarky comment coming.

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncle's."

"Come off it!" said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name is Horace Slughorn."

"Oh," said Ron, looking disappointed. "We thought —"

Hermione flashed a warning look, removing her hands from her still flushed face, at Ron, and Ron changed tack at top speed.

"—we thought it'd be something like that."

"You did?" said Ulquiorra, amused.

"Yeah . . . yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er, what's he like?"

"He looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head of Slytherin," said Ulquiorra. "Is something wrong, Hermione?"

She was watching him as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily in an unconvincing smile. Probably thinking he was emotionally and mentally ruined from Kaien's death. She also probably thought that his change of appearance was the result of Kaien's death too. Ah, ignorance at its best.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?"

"I am unsure," said Ulquiorra. "He can't be worse than Umbridge. That is simply not possible."

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," said a voice from the doorway. Ron's younger sister slouched into the room, looking irritable but brightened a bit at seeing Ulquiorra. "Hi, Harry. Like the tattoos." Ulquiorra inclined his head. Her resemblance to the woman was appallingly beautiful now that she had blossomed into puberty. Damn her.

"What's up with you?" Ron asked.

"It's her," said Ginny, plonking herself down on Ulquiorra's bed, something he was not very comfortable with. "She's driving me mad."

"What's she done now?" asked Hermione sympathetically.

"It's the way she talks to me — you'd think I was about three!"

"I know," said Hermione, dropping her voice. "She's so full of herself." Ulquiorra felt that he was missing something. He was about to ask when Ron angrily cut her off, "Can't you two lay off her for five seconds?"

"Oh, that's right, defend her," snapped Ginny. "We all know you can't get enough of her." Okay, he was _definitely _missing something.

"What-?"

The opened with an overly dramatic bang, and Ulquiorra found his answer.

Fleur Delacour.

* * *

"Bill and I are going to be married!"

Ulquiorra raised a eyebrow and gave a forced small smile. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for them, okay, he was more apathetic "Good for you people", but it was the _**morning.**_ "Congratulations." He could not help noticing how Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny were all determinedly avoiding one another's gaze.

She swooped down upon him and kissed him. ...Again.

"Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear you would be coming — zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking and chickens! Well — enjoy your breakfast, 'Arry!"

With these words she turned gracefully and seemed to float out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Ulquiorra coughed uncomfortably, wondering if Fleur knew that he was still in contact with Grimmjow, her old flame.

He hoped not. That would be _awkward._

* * *

"Listen, no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but —"

"She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm!" said Ginny.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror!" said Hermione from the corner.

"Fleur's not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament," said Ulquiorra, turning to his eggs.

"Not you as well!" said Hermione bitterly. _**What's with all the noise? I'm too tired to make clever and awesome quips.**_

"I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ' 'Arry,' do you?" asked Ginny scornfully.

"No," said Ulquiorra, wishing he hadn't spoken, (and that Ginny would somehow revert back to her eleven year old self, since the similarity to the woman and the fact that he _really_ liked redheads was distracting) replied "I respect her as a fellow contestant in the Touranment. That is all."

"I'd much rather have Tonks in the family," said Ginny. "At least she's a laugh."

"She hasn't been much of a laugh lately," said Ron. "Every time I've seen her she's looked more like Moaning Myrtle." Ulquiorra frowned. "Why is that? I see no reason for her to be so distraught."

"Beats me."

* * *

"I am taking private lessons with Dumbledore this year." Ulquiorra brought up casually, ignoring their gasps. "I think it has something to do with the prophecy that Voldemort was trying to steal."

"Nobody knows what it said, though," said Hermione quickly. "It got smashed. That's what you said."

"Although the Prophet says —" began Ron, but Hermione said, "Shh!"

"The Prophet is correct, for once." said Ulquiorra, moving on to toast: Hermione seemed frightened and Ron amazed. "That glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, after all. It says that I am destined to either die at Voldemort's hand or kill him myself."

* * *

"One for each of us," said Hermione in a terrified whisper, staring with wide petrified eyes at the approaching test results. "Oh no ... oh no ... oh no …"

She gripped both Ulquiorra and Ron tightly around the elbows. Ron was white and sick looking, but Ulquiorra was nonchalant, his hands in his pockets and his posture perfect, but still laid back.

The owls were flying directly at the Burrow, three handsome tawnies, each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope.

"Oh no!" squealed Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley squeezed past them and opened the kitchen window. One, two, three, the owls soared through it and landed on the table in a neat line. All three of them lifted their right legs.

Ulquiorra detached himself from Hermione and moved forward. The letter addressed to him was tied to the leg of the owl in the middle. He untied it smoothly and picked up the letter. To his left, Ron was trying to detach his own results; to his right, Hermione's hands were shaking so much she was making her whole owl tremble.

Nobody in the kitchen spoke. Ulquiorra slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside.

_**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**_

_Pass Grades  
Outstanding (O)  
Exceeds Expectations (E)  
Acceptable (A)_

_Fail Grades_  
_Poor (P)_  
_Dreadful (D)_  
_Troll (T)_

_Harry James Potter has achieved:  
Astronomy E  
Care of Magical Creatures O  
Charms O  
Defense Against the Dark Arts O  
Divination P  
Herbology O  
History of Magic O  
Potions O  
Transfiguration O_

His results were, naturally, exemplary, the only taint would be his Poor in Divination, which didn't even matter since he failed it purposely. The E was a little irking, but Hagrid's banishment from Hogwarts had distracted him. Damn Umbridge. "Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cares about them?" Ron said happily to Ulquiorra. "Here — swap —"

Ulquiorra glanced down Ron's grades: There were no "Outstandings" there.

"Wow Harry!" Ron exclaimed enviously, staring at Ulquiorra's grades. "I knew you'd be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Ron, friendlily punching Ulquiorra on the shoulder. " but _seven_ Os? We've done all right, haven't we?"

"Well done!" said Mrs. Weasley proudly, ruffling Ron's hair. "Seven O.W.L.s, that's more than Fred and George got together!"

"Hermione?" said Ginny tentatively, for Hermione still hadn't turned around. "How did you do?"

"I-not bad," said Hermione in a small voice.

"Oh, come off it," said Ron, striding over to her and whipping her results out of her hand. "Yep — ten 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations' at Defense Against the Dark Arts." He looked down at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You're actually disappointed, aren't you?"

_**...That's wack.**_

_...No._

_**DAMMIT!**_

* * *

"Hello Harry, Happy-OH MY -!"

"Hello Remus, may I call you Remus? We never made that particularly clear."

"!"

"Hey Moony, what's the hold- OH JESUS!"

"...Hello Sirius. You can relax, they're just tattoos."

"!"

"Hey Bastard, move. Thank you...Oh hey. Other Bastard. Happy Birthday, you stupid kit."

"...Thank you Kit Kat."

"DAMMIT KAI-uh, Kyle."

"Leroy?"

"Fluer! Comment allez-vous? Encore belle que jamais."

"-giggle- Stop! Je suis fiancée!"

"Seriously? Sweet, I'm totally there."

* * *

Ulquiorra was made Gryiffindor Quidditch Captain.

_**Bitchin'**_

* * *

Ulquiorra led the way into Madam Malkin's Robe Shop, glancing around. It seemed empty at a glance, but-

". . . not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

There was a clucking noise and a voice Ulquiorra recognized as that of Madam Malkin, the owner, said, "Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child —"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!"

A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His light gray eyes narrowed and widened and he noticeably jumped, to Malkin's dismay. He whirled around, gaping in a unsightly way. "Potter?" Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. "Yes, last time I checked, that _was_ my name." Ron snickered. Malfoy scowled. "Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

"That's quite enough!" said Madam Malkin sharply, looking over her shoulder for support. "Madam — please —"

Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack and glared at them all coldly, but stopped when her landed on Ulquiorra. "Well, well," she murmured interestedly. "Harry Potter. You are very... _different_, from what I have heard." Ulquiorra nodded. "Of course," he said, "I have changed much over this summer." This woman could be made useful somehow; she was an asset, a resource. That, and Ulquiorra didn't want any trouble today. Ulquiorra knew how to gain assets when they were in human form. He gave a little bow and introduced himself. "Harry Potter, at your service." She seemed oddly flustered, for some reason. It was just a (he did admit it was a little over the top) introduction. You see, dear readers, Ulquiorra is still completely oblivious about being a total babe magnet, regardless of said babe's age. That, and with the tattoos back, the hair sexy, and his glasses gone, Ulquiorra's normal babe magnetism was increased by about 212%.

Of course, if he was wearing his old Espada uniform, it would be 250%, but he was stuck to wearing black denim Dior style jeans with a completely black dress shirt, the cuffs buttoned at his wrists. A dark emerald green sweater vest covered his torso, enunciating his lean and muscular chest and black high top converse gave his professional and formal look an air of boyish charm.

...Okay, maybe his babe magnetism was increased by around 235%. Same diff.

* * *

Malfoy yelled at Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra was blasé. Narcissa Malfoy scolded Draco. Ulquiorra smirked mockingly at him when Narcissa's back was turned.

Life was good.

* * *

Ulquiorra got five Decoy Detonators, several packages of Instant Darkness Powder, and-

"Would the effectiveness of the gloves be damaged if I cut off the fingers?"

* * *

"That's him, isn't it?" she whispered. "Turning left?"

"Big surprise," whispered Ron.

Malfoy glanced around, then slid into Knockturn Alley and out of sight. Ulquiorra glanced around and slid out from under the cloak. Not looking back, he said, "Follow me." He heard Hermione gasp and moan as he strode into Knockturn Alley, seemingly without a care, hands casually in his pockets. Ron and Hermione didn't know, of course, that Ulquiorra had Grimmjow charm his pants pockets with Undetectable Extension Charm, and Ulquiorra fingered his wand resting comfortably inside his pocket. As predicted, he waltzed through the dark (in more ways than one) streets without trouble; no one recognized him.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared as Malfoy entered Borgin and Burkes. _I need to find out what is going on inside. _Murciélago perked up. _**I could probably sneak in in bat form. I'll just need a-**_

"Psst! Harry!" Ron hissed to his right and he turned. "Yes."

"C'mon back under the cloak! We've got extendable ears!" _I knew we had forgotten something from the shop._

_**Shopping tends to do that.**_

* * *

The Trio moved closer to the shop, so that Malfoy and Borgin were visible through the glass. ". . . you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," said Borgin, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to commit. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't," said Malfoy. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

Ulquiorra saw Borgin lick his lips nervously.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" said Malfoy, who sounded like he was sneering, which, undoubtedly, he was. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

He moved toward Borgin and was blocked from view by a large black cabinet. Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione shuffled sideways to try and keep him in sight, but all they could see was Borgin, looking very frightened.

"Tell anyone," said Malfoy, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for —"

"I'll decide that," said Malfoy. "Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid, little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not. . . sir."

Borgin made a bow as deep as the one Ulquiorra had once seen him give Lucius Malfoy when he was trapped inside that very shop as a twelve year old.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Borgin, bowing again.

Malfoy exited the shop, looking very smug, and strode past the three Gryffindors, the Invisibility Cloak fluttering dangerously at their ankles. Damn Ron, and his freakishly tall height.

* * *

_**EPIC FAIL.**_ Murciélago deadpanned as Hermione, true to the bat woman's words, epically failed to get information out of Borgin, who chased her out of the shop and closed. Ulquiorra sighed. _Damn. Now I'm stuck with trying to find out what Malfoy is up too, **and** have to listen to these fools' sexual tension argue._

* * *

"He's a Death Eater," said Ulquiorra resolutely. "He's replaced his father as a Death Eater." Yes, it would be very typical of Voldemort. He would be furious with Lucius Malfoy for his failure to get the prophecy from him, which led to him destroying it. Recruiting his son and sending him on a death mission would be perfect. If he succeeds, excellent. If he fails, it would be a perfect punishment.

There was a silence; then Ron erupted in laughter. "Malfoy? He's sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join?" _Yes. Why else why I be having this conversation?_

"It seems very unlikely, Harry," said Hermione in a repressive sort of voice. "What makes you think — ?"

"In Madam Malkin's. She didn't touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He has been branded with the Dark Mark."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"Well.. ." said Ron, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"I think he just wanted to get out of there, Harry," said Hermione.

"He showed Borgin something we couldn't see," Ulquiorra continued thoughtfully. "Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with. Intimidation and subtle death threats are normal in such a situation."

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look.

"I'm not sure, Harry. . . ."

"Yeah, I still don't reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join.. . ."

"Who knows Voldemort better? Me or you two?"

They had no answer.

* * *

People stared shamelessly as he approached. They even pressed their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a look at him. He had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping he would have to endure this term after all the "Chosen One" rumors in the Daily Prophet and the sudden change in appearance, but he did not enjoy the sensation of standing in a very bright spotlight. He tapped Ginny on the shoulder, his insides burning with agitation. He still wasn't used to physical contact yet.

"Shall we try to find a compartment?"

"I can't, Harry, I said I'd meet Dean," said Ginny brightly. "See you later."

"Right," said Ulquiorra. He felt a furious twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her; he had become so used to her presence over the summer that he had almost forgotten that Ginny did not hang around with him, Ron, and Hermione while at school.

And that her hair behaved so much like Orihime's.

He blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls. _Uh..._

_**Ah, Ulquiorra. When will you learn?**_

_...Learn...what?_

_**That you, my dear Master, are a total babe magnet. **_

"Hi, Harry!" said a familiar voice from behind him.

"Neville." Ulquiorra acknowledged in unseen relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him.

"Hello, Harry," said a girl with long hair and large misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.

"Luna. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you," said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside.

"Quibbler still going strong?" asked Ulquiorra conversationally, ensuring that his tone and interest level was the appropriate amount of 'Harry'.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up," said Luna happily. _I don't really care, but that's good for you._

"Let's find seats," The three of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment, and Ulquiorra promenaded inside gratefully.

"They're even staring at us," said Neville, indicating himself and Luna. "because we're with you!"

Ulquiorra said nothing to this. Merely gazed at Neville speculatively as he suddenly gasped and dove under the compartment seats as he hunted for his runaway toad.

"Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of The Quibbler.

"I was not planning any, with Umbridge gone." said Ulquiorra, sitting down. Neville bumped his head against the seat as he emerged from under it. He looked most disappointed.

"I liked the D.A.! I learned loads with you!"

"I enjoyed the meetings too," said Luna serenely. "It was like having friends."

_**...Wow. Awkward.**_

* * *

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter," the third year girl faltered as her eyes met Ulquiorra's intense forest ones and she turned scarlet. She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Ulquiorra and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

"What is it?" Ron demanded, as Ulquiorra unrolled his.

"An invitation," said Ulquiorra.

_Harry,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Slughorn_

"But what does he want me for?" asked Neville nervously, as though he was expecting detention.

"That is the question." Ulquiorra murmured vaguely, before standing and exiting the compartment, Neville following.

Ulquiorra wished he could avoid all the staring, which seemed to have increased in intensity even since he had last walked down the train. Every now and then, students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at him. The exception was Cho Chang, who darted into her compartment when she saw Ulquiorra coming.

When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, Ulquiorra was the most anticipated.

"Harry, m'boy!" said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!"

Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat down opposite each other in the only two empty seats, which were nearest the door. Ulquiorra glanced around at their fellow guests. He recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-year boys Ulquiorra did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny. Ulquiorra was unsure how she got there as well. _**...Destiny?**_

_Not funny._

"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Ulquiorra and Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course -"

* * *

Ulquiorra exited the lunch, highly uncomfortable. "I'm glad that's over," muttered Neville. "Strange man, isn't he?"

"Exceedingly." said Ulquiorra, his eyes on Zabini, a Slytherin in their year. "How come you ended up in there, Ginny?"

"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith," said Ginny. "You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He knows that you stay at our house over the summer and kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him — when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to got detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

"You were accepted into that absurd lunch based on your talent." Ulquiorra said approvingly. "Much better than having a mother who's famous," said Ulquiorra, eying Zabini's head with distaste, "or because their uncle —" Ulquiorra had an idea, suddenly. _Murci__é__lago, would you like to do something reckless? _The fiendish demon giggled in anticipatory glee.

_**Ha! You know it! How can I serve Master?**_

_Follow Zabini. I want to see if we can gain any noteworthy information._

_**Done! I think I need some of that powder stuff you got from Gred and Forge.**_

"Harry? You okay? You just sorta...blanked."

"Hm? Ah, I suppose I lost my train of thought." Ulquiorra said smoothly, and Ginny shrugged before frowning, looking around. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" Ulquiorra asked, all aware of Murciélago crawling on the roof, following Zabini persistently.

"It sounded like... _talons_, or something."

"Ridiculous. Shall we go change into our robes?"

"I guess..."

* * *

Murciélago crawled, keeping her eyes trained on the Slytherin and keeping her tail close. She watched as Zabini opened the compartment door, and using her whip like tail, tossed the dark pellet in after him. It exploded, engulfing the entire compartment in thick black smoke. Smirking, she swooped from the roof and dropped to the ground, slinking inside, easily avoiding the flailing teens and climbed into the luggage rack, slipping into normal bat form. She crouched behind some of the trunks unseen.

"Damn! What was that?"

"Probably some blood traitor Gryffindor prank."

"Those bastards! I probably won't even be at Hogwarts next year, so at least I won't have to deal with the filth."

"What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" said a high nasal and very unpleasant voice.

"Well, you never know," said Malfoy, his voice smirking. "I might have — er — moved on to bigger and better things."

_**Jackpot.**_

* * *

Malfoy sneered malevolently as he gripped the bat's fragile wing painfully. "Well, what do we have here?" He said quietly. "A bat?" His grasp tightened and the small bat squeaked out in agony.

"Release her." Malfoy whirled around to see Ulquiorra in the doorway, pointing his wand straight at him. Malfoy snarled, incredulous. "Potter! You sent a _bat_ to spy on me?" Ulquiorra remained impassive. "She is quite capable. Release her." Malfoy threw Murciélago roughly, and Ulquiorra lowered his wand to use both his hands to catch her, something Malfoy took advantage of. His curse blasted Ulquiorra backwards into the opposite compartment, and the glass door burst as he collided. The glass fragments cascaded around him and pattered to the floor beautifully as he somersaulted backwards onto his feet and rose in one fluid motion. He immediately shot a stinging hex at Malfoy's wrist, cradling Murciélago in the other. _**I'm sorry-**_

_You did much better than anticipated, with your normal form being so conspicuous and your current form so fragile. Did you get the information? _

_**Yeah, I did. At least I didn't totally- DODGE!**_ Ulquiorra quickly stepped to the left, the window behind him shattering loudly. He put Murciélago in his extended pants pocket, where she settled comfortably, nursing her injured wing. Her small form was irritatingly fragile, and it was why she never used it. **"**Wingardium Leviosa_._" The glass shards from the door quickly rose from the floor and shot like a swarm of bullets towards Malfoy when Ulquiorra jerked his wand arm in a throwing motion. "Protego!" Malfoy yelled hastily, and the potent and jagged glass shattered even more as they collided with his shield. Malfoy opened his mouth when the train lurched. They both stumbled and realized that the train was preparing to leave. "Shit. Come on!" Ulquiorra ordered and they dashed down the hall, and collided into Tonks. She blinked surprised. "Wotcher Harry."

* * *

Tonks waved her wand; an immense silvery four-legged creature erupted from it and streaked off into the darkness.

''Was that a Patronus?" Ulquiorra asked, Malfoy scowling behind him.

"Yes, I'm sending word to the castle that I've got you or they'll worry. Come on, we'd better not dawdle." They set off toward the lane that led to the school.

"How did you find me?"

"I noticed you hadn't left the train. I thought you might be hiding for some reason. When I heard shattering glass, I knew where to go."

"But what are you doing here?" Ulquiorra asked.

"I'm stationed in Hogsmeade now, to give the school extra protection," said Tonks.

"Is it just you who's stationed up here, or — ?"

"No, Proudfoot, Savage, and Dawlish are here too."

They trudged up the dark, deserted lane, following the freshly made carriage tracks. Ulquiorra looked sideways at Tonks. Last year she had been inquisitive (to the point of being a little annoying at times), she had laughed easily, and she had made jokes. Her cheeriness reminded him of Neliel with her fraccion. Now she seemed older and much more serious. Was this all the effect of what had happened at the Ministry? She had been fighting Bellatrix, who had been the one to push Kaien into the veil. Was it as Hermione said, 'survivors guilt'? The three of them tramped on through the cold night in silence, Tonks's long cloak whispering on the ground behind them.

Having always traveled there by carriage, Ulquiorra had never before appreciated just how far Hogwarts was from Hogsmeade Station, but it was not much for his well trained legs. It seemed to greatly exhaust Malfoy, to Ulquiorra's pleasure. Ulquiorra slipped his hand into his pocket and felt Murciélago's fragile small claws bat his fingers. She must be tired to not immediately retreat to their world and instead take some time to rest in his pocket. Understandable and unsurprising; her small form was very weak and injured easily. With great relief he finally saw the tall pillars on either side of the gates, each topped with a winged boar. He was cold, he was hungry and he was quite keen to leave this new, gloomy, and (quite honestly) unbearable, Tonks behind.

* * *

"Someone's coming down for you," said Tonks, "Look."

A lantern was bobbing at the distant foot of the castle. The glowing yellow light was ten feet away from them when he recognized the hooked nose and long, black, greasy hair of Severus Snape.  
"Well, well, well," sneered Snape, taking out his wand and tapping the padlock once, so that the chains snaked backward and the gates creaked open. "Nice of you to turn up, Potter. What have you done to your face?" Ulquiorra stared into his seemingly soulless black eyes and stated coldly, "I wear my despair with pride." Tonks and Malfoy stared, confused, but Snape got the message. He nodded curtly and stood back so Malfoy and Ulquiorra could pass him.

"I meant Hagrid to get the message," said Tonks, frowning.

"Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter here, so I took it instead. And incidentally," said Snape, "I was interested to see your new Patronus." He shut the gates in her face with a loud clang and tapped the chains with his wand again, so that they slithered, clinking, back into place.

"I think you were better off with the old one," said Snape, the malice in his voice unmistakable. "The new one looks weak."

_Old one?_ Ulquiorra thought curiously, looking back at Tonks. _They can change form?_

"Thank you, Tonks." He called out to the dull metamorphus.

"See you, Harry."

* * *

"I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did you?" Snape continued. "And with no flying car available you decided that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a dramatic effect." Ulquiorra knew that Snape was only speaking to him and not Malfoy, but Malfoy flushed angrily anyway. Snape didn't take off points, because he would have to take points off of Slytherin as well, thanks to Malfoy. Plus, Ulquiorra and Snape had an unspoken agreement since the Monday at Six O' Clock in the Office (that will STAY at Monday at Six O' Clock in the Office) Incident.

Ulquiorra doesn't directly mess with Snape, and Snape doesn't make Ulquiorra's life a deliberate Hell.

It was working out pretty nicely for the two of them.

* * *

Everyone was gaping at Ulquiorra and Malfoy (mostly Ulquiorra) for coming in late, and the strange new appearance (probably wondering who the hell he was), but their jaws dropped when he pulled Murciélago out of his pocket and let her lap up some pumpkin juice with her long tongue. He turned to the baffled Hermione. "Do you know any Healing spells?" Hermione mouthed wordlessly and nodded. Ulquiorra held up Murciélago's and pointed to her injured wing. Hermione got out her wand and pointed to the damaged appendage, still too shocked to protest or register what she was doing. "Episkey."

* * *

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn is a former colleague of mine who has agreed resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered wheather they had heard right.  
"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare Ulquiorra, who was frowning. "But you said —" Ulquiorra raised a hand for silence, Murciélago twittering, perched on his shoulder.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." _**Say WHAT? **_Murciélago yelled loudly, a high shriek to the public, and everyone in vicinity jumped and stared at the deceivingly quiet black bat.

_**...My bad.**_

* * *

_Ulquiorra sat in a perfect lotus position across from his happily healed and demonic Zanpaktou. Her tail slapped the ground nervously, as she sat in a much more relaxed cross legged position. "So?" _

_"'Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it. ... When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many OWLs or N.E.W.T.S anyone's got? Of course he isn't… It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown,' Is what Malfoy said," Murciélago said, repeating Malfoy's words exactly with ease. Their eyes, in the most literal sense possible, saw everything, after all. Ulquiorra had the photographic memory to prove it._

"_Then that Zabini guy I followed said, 'And you think you'll be able to do something for him? Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?' Then Malfoy said, 'I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for.' Then they all got changed, one of the bastards damaged my wing with their trunks, and the rest is history." Murciélago finished grumpily, sour that she had been caught so easily. Damn her secondary form. It was so delicate and annoying. Ulquiorra nodded slowly. "I conclude that our hypothesis was correct than. He's a Death Eater now." The Demon's tail thumped the ground in agreement and dripping water echoed of the cavern walls._

"_...No one's going to believe us, are they?"_

"_Probably not."_

* * *

"So, Potter, Potter . . ." said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes as she turned to Ulquiorra. "Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration ... all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased." Ulquiorra nodded his head. "Thank you Professor. I have to ask, regarding to Potions-" McGonagall raised an eyebrow, peering over her glasses. "Oh?"

"I have the ingredients required, but I was unable to get the book." Ulquiorra explained simply, to McGonagall's confusion. "Hermione bought the last one. Apparently, a new employee somehow destroyed most of them, according to the manager." McGonagall tutted. "I see." She said crisply, believing him, since Ulquiorra never really lied all that much, and honestly; _newbies._ "Well, you will be able to borrow a book from Professor well, Potter, here is your schedule. Oh, by the way- twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure."

A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Ulquiorra, and the two of them left the table together.

Free period. Time to write a letter.

* * *

_Jaggerjaques,_

_I believe Draco Malfoy has replaced his father as a Death Eater._

_-Harry Potter_

* * *

_Bastard,_

_That moron had a **son?**_

_-The King_

* * *

_Jaggerjaques,_

_Yes._

_-Harry Potter_

* * *

_Bastard,_

_Tch. Figures._

_-The King_

_P.S. Enjoying my present?_

* * *

_Jaggerjaques,_

_...I didn't know you were so...knowledgeable, when it came to Muggle and Wizard fashion._

_-Harry Potter_

* * *

_Bastard,_

_I'm French. _

_-The King_

* * *

_Jaggerjaques,_

_...Touché._

_-Harry Potter_

* * *

Grimmjow stared, irritated and perplexed.

Hey, having Kurosaki and his midget girlfriend burst through his goddamn window during breakfast was NOT his ideal morning. He looked down at his house elf, Valentine who was dressed in a, true to her name, red and pink dress. She looked very shocked. This was bizarre, even for his standards (that she knew of, and she had been serving him since she could walk). He sighed, and sipped his tea (not that shitty crap Aizen forced them to drink, the good stuff) while cursing that idiot Kaien. That imbecile.

"This doesn't leave this room. EVER."

"...Oui, monsieur."

* * *

"You will now divide," Snape instructed, "into pairs. One partner will attempt jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Although Snape did not know it, Ulquiorra had taught at least half the class how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. Therefore, a reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Of course, Hermione, being Hermione, managed to repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word. Which Snape, being, well, _Snape_, ignored. He swept between them as they practiced, looking just as much like an overgrown cartoon bat as ever, lingering to watch Ulquiorra and Ron struggling with the task. Well, Ron was struggling.

Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Ulquiorra, was purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Ulquiorra had his wand raised, waiting  
on to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to come.

"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while, and Ulquiorra was forced to agree (silently). "Here - let me show you -"Snape fired a jinx at Ulquiorra with admirable speed and stunning accuracy. Ulquiorra jerked his wand in front off. _Protego._The jinx shot back neatly and swiftly towards Snape, who dodged and fired a curse.

The 'demonstration' would last about 15 more minutes, and became a Hogwarts Legend; dubbed as, The-Snape-Verses-Potter-(A Battle of Epic Proportions)-Smackdown (of 1996, not to be confused with the S.V.P. (A.B.E.P.) S. of 1997).

* * *

"That. Was. AWESOME!"

* * *

_Dear Harry,  
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore  
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops._

* * *

Ulquiorra and Co. (and Ernie) sat together at the table nearest a golden cauldron. Ulquiorra sat down and gently inhaled, as one does when one needs to breathe. He discovered the most intoxicating scent coming from the gold cauldron. The sweet fragrance of spring winds after rain, the fresh clean scent of silk, and an aroma of something dark, damp, and earthy seeped inside his body, slowing and drugging his senses like a fine wine.

...Or poison.

* * *

"I do not have a copy of Advanced Potion-Making, there was an...incident, at Flourish and Blotts that prevented me from purchasing one. And Ron wasn't aware he could take the N.E.W.T course, so he is in need of scales as well."

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention . . . not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend your friend some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts. . . ."

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Ulquiorra and Ron along with a set of tarnished scales for the red head.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Ulquiorra saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it, and recognized it immediately for the potion Snape had threatened him with in his fourth year. But of course, Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the, drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione. _**Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!**_

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the table the Ravenclaws were seated at, "this one here is pretty well known. . . . Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too . . . Who can - ?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

Ulquiorra too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question. After all, she was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year (although he was perfectly capable of doing so).

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here . . . yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. Ir seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione. _**Oh, dear Aizen.**_

_No wonder it has such a seductively deadly perfume._

"Quire right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and -" _**AND? I MUST KNOW!**_

…

_**...What? Their struggling and awkward adolescent romance is entertaining.**_

_...It seems more troublesome to me._

_**That's because you're not a romantic like me.**_

_...Huh?_

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence, to his Zanpaktou's anguish. _**Dammit!**_

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No. I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Ulquiorra saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something and both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; in fact, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Ulquiorra, who was sitting next to her.

"Oho! 'One of my friends is Muggle-born, and she's one of the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Ulquiorra, dipping his head, his nerves pricking uncomfortably as everyone's gaze shifted towards him.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.

Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched him in the face, something Ulquiorra and Murciélago remembered with glee. Hermione turned to Ulquiorra with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!" Ulquiorra fidgeted, uncomfortable with her adoring and delighted tone.

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who a reason we _all_ know, looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year - I'd've told him so if he'd asked me!" Ulquiorra sighed.

_It_ was beginning.

* * *

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

It was on.

...Again.

What was this, the 5th time now?

* * *

To his vexation, he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. After finally managing to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Ulquiorra hurried off toward the store cupboard to find what he needed, and began working on his potion. He needed the Felix Felicis. Not for himself, but just to ensure Malfoy wouldn't get it. The idea of Malfoy had a completely lucky day when working on a job for Voldemort was simply unthinkable.

Having finished calmly chopping his Valerian roots, Ulquiorra analyzed his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the scribbles of the previous owner,  
who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous bean and had written in the alternative instruction:

_Crush with flat side of silver dagger,  
releases; juice better than cutting._

Ulquiorra frowned, the instructions being tossed around in his mind, scrutinized by both himself and Murciélago. Logically, that should be true-

"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" Ulquiorra looked up; Slughorn was just passing the Slytherin table.

"Yes," said Slughorn, without looking at Malfoy, "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age. . . ."

And he walked away. Ulquiorra smirked subtly and turned back to his task. He could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like Ulquirra or Zabini; perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.

The sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Murciélago shrugged. _**Couldn't hurt, right?**_

Ulquiorra agreed, and using his silver knife, crushed the tough bean with the flat side of the small blade. Surprised and pleased with the amount of juice that was extracted by this new method, he quickly added it to his dark purple potion.

The potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

* * *

"The clear winner!" the new Potions Master cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are - one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

* * *

_This book is the property of the Half Blood Prince._

_**...The who?**_

* * *

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you dur ing these — for want of a better word — lessons?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information." There was a pause.

"You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything," said Ulquiorra. _**Maybe he's Aizen's reincarnation?**_

Ulquiorra, nor Murciélago, at this point, knew that Aizen (the bastard) was immortal so the Shinigami couldn't technically kill him.

_Impossible. He's too old. If he was Aizen's reincarnation, he would be younger. Or a dung beetle._

But, logic is still on Ulquiorra's side and kicking ass.

"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm founda tion of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who be lieved the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron." _**Seriously? AWESOME!**_

"But you think you're right?" said Ulquiorra skeptically.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mis takes like the next man. In fact, being — forgive me — rather clev erer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Ulquiorra, who turned eagerly in his seat to watch Dumbledore bend ing over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straight ened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Ulquiorra.

"This time, you enter the Pensieve with me . . . and, even more unusually, with permission."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane."

_**...Seriously, who?**_

* * *

"What happened to the girl in the cottage?" said Ulquiorra as soon as they reappeared in Dumbledore's office, as the man himself lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand. "Merope?"

"Oh, she survived," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk and indicating that Ulquiorra should sit down too. "Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subse quently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees addition to Ogden, received six months."

"Marvolo?" Ulquiorra repeated.

"That's right," said Dumbledore, smiling in approval. "I am glad to see you're keeping up."

"That old man was -"

"Voldemort's grandfather, yes," said Dumbledore. "Marvolo, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding family noted for a vein of insta bility and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins." _**Eurgh.**_

* * *

"And Merope she died, didn't she? Voldemort was brought up in an orphanage."

"Yes, indeed," said Dumbledore. "We must do a certain amount of guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage, Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without his wife. The rumor flew around the neighbor hood that he was talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in.' When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for this reason."

"But she did have his baby."

"But not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while she was still pregnant." Murciélago gasped. _**Oh, HELL no. **_Ulquiorra mentally (and metaphorically) sweatdropped. _…_

**_That's the number one thing NOT to do to your wife. The number one thing! ...Besides cheating on her with her best friend and/or sibling. That's the __other__ number one thing._**

…_I will take your word for it._

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

"So." Grimmjow stated, after dismissing his confused house elf, watching as Kurosaki and Midget stared after her, baffled. "Kaien told you about us. That damn idiot." He muttered the last part quietly. Kurosaki blinked. "Uh...yeah." He tore his gaze from the door and looked back at Grimmjow. However, the movement brought attention to something that Grimmjow found absolutely hilarious.

"Phft-! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! MY GOD! WHAT- HAHA- HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR HAIR? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"S-Shut up! What's wrong with it?"

"Are you kidding? It's freaking' _waist length!"_

"SHUT UP!"

* * *

"You were wearing that ring when we visited Professor Slughorn that night."

"So I was," Dumbledore agreed.

"But isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"

Dumbledore bowed his head. "The very same."

"How long-?"

"I acquired it very recently," said Dumbledore. "A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact."

"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"

"Around that time, yes, Harry."

Ulquiorra stared speculatively. Dumbledore was smiling.

"Sir, how exactly — ?"

"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Good night."

* * *

"We'll go visit Hagrid after Quidditch tryouts," Ulquiorra assured Hermine sedately. He wasn't missing Hagrid too much (if at all, he was rapidly getting more detached from his human companions), and like Ron, he thought that they were bet ter off without Grawp and the dreaded Skrewts in their lives. However, he had his "Harry" persona to keep up. "But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied. I don't know why the team's this popular all of a sudden. It's bizarre."

"Oh, come on, Harry," said Hermione, suddenly impatient. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more in teresting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to the stupefied Ulquiorra. _...What?_

_**-Sigh- Master, how many times do I have to tell you? You. Are. A. Babe Magnet!**_

"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One' — well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"

Ulquiorra was finding the Great Hall very hot and stuffy all of a sudden, even though the ceiling still looked cold and rainy. Hermione continued despite his obvious (to him) awkwardness.

"And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway. ..."

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Hermione finished, ignoring the spluttering and rapidly jealous Ron as he said something like, "I'm tall." Ulquiorra ducked his head, embarrassed. Height should not be a source of embarrassment, it was merely a genetic trait. Yet, here he was, the former Quatro Espada, bashful because he had hit 180 centimeters (5 foot and 11 inches) that summer.

Pathetic.

_**~Babe Magnet~**_ Murciélago sang teasingly. Ulquiorra felt his cheeks become heavier with all the blood rushing to his face, and was immensely grateful for the camouflage of his tattoos.. _Damn teenage hormones. _

Murciélago, the traitor, sniggered.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared up at the owls as the swooped into the Hall. He had gotten the occasional letter from Sirius, but besides that, no post. He was surprised at first to see Hedwig come towards him with a package, but soon discovered it was the textbook he ordered. _Well, this won't do at all._ Ulquiorra thought crossly, not even thinking about giving up the infinitely more knowledgeable copy that formally belonged to the enigmatic Half Blood Prince. He cleverly switched the textbook covers using Diffindo, and the Prince's book disguised was the new one. Hermione looked disgruntled and turned to her Daily Prophet huffily.

* * *

As Ulquiorra had predicted, the trials took most of the morning. Half of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest. The latter included a large, wiry-haired boy Ulquiorra recognized immediately from the Hogwarts Express.

"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Ulquiorra's hand. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper." Ulquiorra shook the hand distracted with all the people and looking down at his clipboard with the names of all those who wished to try out.

"You didn't try out last year, did you?" asked Ulquiorra, still looking at his notes and blatantly ignoring him for the most part.

"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials," said McLaggen's voice, with something of a swagger. "Ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet."

"...Alright." Ulquiorra drew out the word like he was talking to someone impaired, which Ulquiorra was beginning to think, this guy was.

* * *

After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one in volving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Ulquiorra had found himself three Chasers. His former, and still current as of now, teammate Katie Bell, a new find called Demelza Robins (who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers) and Ginny Weasley (May God help his poor, now existing, soul), who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot.

Neither of his chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Fred and George, but he was still reasonably satisfied with them. Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year boy, who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Ulquiorra's head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well. They now joined Katie, Demelza, and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.

Ulquiorra saved the Keeper tryouts for last, hoping that the stadium would clear out to soothe Ron's nerves. Of course, that didn't happen.

To Ulquiorra's great disappointment, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five. Ulquiorra didn't want to have him on his team, he seemed positively dreadful and annoying to top it off. On the last one, however, he shot off in completely the wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth. Ulquiorra suppressed a smirk.

Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven. "Good luck!" cried a voice from the stands. Ulquiorra looked around, expecting to see Hermione, but it was Lavender Brown. He blanched discretely. _...No. _He thought aghast. _She __**cannot**__ like Ron. No._

_**Yes.**_

_NO._

**_Yes. This is _perfect_!_**

_...How?_

_**Adds more tension and drama for us viewers.**_

Blinking, Ulquiorra turned back to Ron, but, thankfully, he need not have worried: Ron saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted, Ulquiorra turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately (not), Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen's red face inches from his own. Ulquiorra frowned. "Please step back. I prefer the constant enforcement of the concept of 'Personal Space'. If such a notion does not compute with your memory, allow me to refresh it." The last part was said with a touch of menace, and he hastily stepped back.

"His sister didn't really try," said McLaggen scathingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Ulquiorra often saw in Uncle Vernon's. "She gave him an easy save."

"Preposterous," said Ulquiorra coldly, checking his notes and writing down his final choices for the team with satisfaction. "That was the one he nearly missed."

McLaggen took a step nearer Ulquiorra, who didn't even look up this time.

"Give me another go."

"No," said Ulquiorra. "You've had your chance. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper, he won it fair and square." Ulquiorra looked up, shadows casting a deadly and lethal expression.

"Get out of my way."

He thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch him, but he smartly contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling what sounded like threats to thin air.

* * *

"Ar, I always knew yeh'd find it hard ter squeeze me inter yer timetables," he said gruffly, pouring them more tea. "Even if yeh applied fer Time-Turners —"

"We couldn't have done," said Ulquiorra, thinking back. "Ka-Kyle and I smashed the en tire stock of Ministry Time-Turners when we were there last sum mer. It was in the Daily Prophet."

"Ar, well then," said Hagrid. "There's no way yeh could've done it. ... I'm sorry I've bin — yeh know — I've jus' bin worried about Aragog ... an I did wonder whether, if Professor Grubbly-Plank had bin teachin' yeh —" The trio did what they had to to preserve their friendship with Hagrid.

They lied their asses of.

* * *

The more Ulquiorra pored over the textbook, the more he realized how much was in there, not only the handy hints and shortcuts on potions, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, the Prince had invented himself.

Ulquiorra had already attempted a few of the Prince's self-invented spells. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (he had tried this on Crabbe in the corridor, with very entertaining results), a jinx (Langlock) that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which he had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Mrs. Norris); and, perhaps most useful of all, _Muffliato_, a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class with out being overheard. The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione, who was sour with the Prince's superior skill in Potions, as well as being smart enough to create his own spells.

Sitting up in bed, Ulquiorra turned the book sideways so as to examine more closely the scribbled instructions for a spell that seemed to have caused the Prince some trouble. There were many crossings-out and alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the page, the scribble:

_Levicorpus (nvbl) _

Nvbl . . that had to mean "nonverbal." Ulquiorra tilted his head like the inquisitive bat his is, and pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick. _Levicorpus._

"Aaaaaaaargh!"

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: Everyone had woken up as Ron had let out a yell. Ulquiorra had his wand ready for battle, but it was not needed. Ron was dangling upside down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.

"Sorry." Ulquiorra uttered as he scanned the page as Dean and Seamus roared with laughter, and Neville picked himself up from the floor, having fallen out of bed. "Hang on — I'll let you down —"

He located it and deciphered the cramped word underneath the spell:

_Liberacorpus._ There was another flash of light, and Ron fell in a heap onto his mattress.

"Sorry," repeated Ulquiorra, while Dean and Seamus continued to roar with laughter.

"Tomorrow," said Ron in a muffled voice, "I'd rather you set the alarm clock."

"Don't tell Hermione. She won't approve."

"Uh, right."

* * *

Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terriblepain. She screamed and screamed and her friend Leanne started to scream too. Seizing Katie's ankles, she frantically tried to tug her back to the ground. Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them. Ulquiorra managed to catch her but she was writhing so much, it was difficult to keep a firm grip. Instead they low ered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, appar ently unable to recognize any of them.

* * *

"It was when that package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand out stretched, but Ulquiorra seized his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't touch it!"

He crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

"I've seen that before," said Ulquiorra, staring at the seemingly beautiful jewelery. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it."

_**You don't think it was-!**_

_Malfoy? A likely possibility, though the odds of anyone taking us seriously is doubtful. Malfoy's magical signature isn't in Hogsmeade. _

_**An accomplice then!**_

_Precisely._

* * *

But of course, no one believed him. Even when he put out the idea of outside help.

It wasn't that unbelievable. Narrow minded nitwits.

* * *

"That's right," said Mrs. Cole, one of Voldemort's orphanage workers, as she helped herself to more gin. "I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour."

Mrs. Cole nodded impressively and took another generous gulp of gin.

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty — and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father — yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus — and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word.

"Well, we named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here ever since."

* * *

"Magic?" The young Tom Riddle (the second, not to be confused with the first) repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's. . . it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to." His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in worshipful prayer.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

* * *

"And lastly — I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry — the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.

"And now, it really is time for bed." Ulquiorra bit back the frustration that was scrambling and clawing it's up his throat into his clenched mouth. He never told Ulquiorra anything, and it was so goddamn annoying. _**And Aizen like.**_

* * *

"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," said Ron qui etly, as they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed this terms project, and began pulling on their protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"

"I think it's fascinating," said Hermione earnestly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"

"I already know his weakness." Ulquiorra pointed out. "He cannot love, nor can he see or understand the heart. I do not why seeing his past is relevant yet, although it is truly remark-"

"Quite enough chat over here!" said Professor Sprout briskly, bustling over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

"So, you can do _magic?"_ Ichigo asked Grimmjow incredulously, staring at his extremely Un-Grimmjow like surroundings. Grimmjow rolled his eyes. It had been several days since Kurosaki's and Miget's last visit; now Kurosaki was back with the Princess. Orihime had been enthusiastic and excited to see him, but afterward seemed a little disappointed. Grimmjow inwardly smirked. Oh, he was _totally_ going to win that bet

...Uh, not that there _was_ a bet. I mean, all of the Espada back in the day _totally_ did _not_ have a large and popular gambling system, and the subject of Ulquiorra and Orihime's relationship was _no way_ the most popular subject to bet on. ...Yeah.

Grimmjow reclined back in his antique arm chair, his feet resting back on a matching pouf lazily, Panthère purring in his lap as the French sun streamed in through the large ornate windows. The Princess seemed rather taken in with his home, as she was staring at the (moving) portraits with awe.

"Yes, you dumbass. Haven't we made this clear already?" Grimmjow mocked, and Kurosaki scowled. And opened his mouth to retort, when Valentine the elf appeared in the doorway. ""Excusez-moi Maître, mais ta mère veut savoir ce que tout le bruit est." Ichigo and Orihime gaped at the rapid French (and the fact that it was a, well, _elf_), and Ichigo choked as Grimmjow answered back easily, his French flawless. "Juste vieux amis de l'école. Parlez-lui de se détendre et se reposer un peu." The elf bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door. Ichigo mouthed wordlessly. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. Orihime giggled. "I think I know some french!" She exclaimed happily, clapping her hands together, startling Panthère, who yawned and curled further into her owner's lap. Her face scrunched up in thought. "Hmmm...what was it...Oh! Je veux faire l'amour avec passion à vous jusqu'à ce que tu cries!" Grimmjow choked on his laughter, once he realized she had absolutely _no_ idea what she just proposed to him.

_**..."I want to passionately make love to you until you scream"?**_

_I think I'm dying from not giving into the urge to laugh, I really am._

"Really?" He managed through the laughter. "Emospada would _kill_ me dead if he heard you say that." Ichigo's eyes seemed to pop out of his head, and Orihime's entire face brightened like the sun, a delighted flush on he cheeks, her eyes sparkling beautifully.

"WHAT?"

* * *

"And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"

"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione.

The pod flew out from under Ron's fingers and hit the green house glass, rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head and knocking off her old, patched hat. Ulquiorra went to retrieve the pod; when he got back, Hermione was saying, "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club' —"

"'Slug Club,'"repeated Ron with a sneer uncannily similar to a Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —"

"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who, for a reason that Ulquiorra knew _very_ well, having been confronted by it for the last two years, had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"

Ulquiorra suddenly wished the pod had flown a little farther, so that he need not have been standing here with the pair of them. Unno ticed by either, he took the bowl that contained the pod and be gan to try and open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he could think of. At least, until Murciélago mentally bitched whipped him with her tail. _**Shut up! We're missing all the good parts!**_

_Who's __**we**__?_

_**SHHHH!**_

"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely differ ent voice.

"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I 'hooked up with McLaggen ...'"

There was a pause while Ulquiorra stood there, not looking at his two human companions, holding the magical plant pod.

"No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quiet voice.

Ulquiorra purposely knocked the bowl over. It shattered loudly, snapping Ron and Hermione out of the reverie. "Reparo." Ulquiorra murmured, and the bowl sprang back together, and the moment between Ron and Hermione was shattered just like the bowl was a moment ago.

Murciélago wailed in misery. _**WHY?**_

* * *

"Well then, you're in," said Ulquiorra. "There's a practice tonight, seven o'clock."

"Right," said Dean. "Cheers, Harry! Blimey, I can't wait to tell Ginny!"

* * *

The two Gryffindor protagonists found themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as though glued together. Analyzed it. Mentally shrugged.

Meh. He honestly didn't give a shit.

"Oi!"

Dean and Ginny broke apart and looked around. "What?" said Ginny.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" said Ginny.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Ulquiorra a shifty grin that Ulquiorra did not return, although he never smiled anyway, as the iciness flowing through him suggested for Dean's instant dismissal from the team. He was a complication, a distraction. A problem.

"Er . . . c'mon, Ginny," said Dean, "let's go back to the common room. ..."

"You go!" said Ginny. "I want a word with my dear brother!" _...This..._

_**Won't end well? Yeah, pretty much.  
**_

"Right," said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron —"

"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "D' you think I want peo ple saying my sister's a —"

"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"

"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny —"

"Oh yes he does!" she said, flaring up at Ulquiorra. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel —"

"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.

"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, beside herself. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done your self, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

Ron had pulled out his wand too; Ulquiorra stepped swiftly between them, drawing his own wand.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Ulquiorra, who was now pointing his wand at Ron, his other hand on Ginny's shoulder, keeping her at a distance. "Just because I don't do it in public — !"

Ginny screamed with jeering laughter, trying to push Ulquiorra out of the way.

"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

A streak of orange light flew and Ulquiorra pushed Ginny and himself out of the way speedily. Ulquiorra forced Ron up against the wall, pointing his wand at his throat.

"Don't be stupid —"

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now, and Ulquiorra felt very peeved that she mentioned that. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

Soon, that little problem would be fixed, however, much to Ulquiorra's despair.

* * *

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Rons juice with lucky potion at breakfast! F'elix Felicis!"

"No, I didn't," said Ulquiorra, turning to face them both.

"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in." said Ulquiorrra stoutly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his hand that morning at breakfast. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were look ing." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."

* * *

Ulquiorra stared in horror. _This was __**not**__ supposed to happen. Why did this have to happen? _Murciélago was even in despair. _**They**__** were suppose to run into each others arms in a moment of pure magic! WHAT THE HELL IS **__**THIS**__**?**_

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispas sionately, looking where Ulquiorra was looking; Ron and Lavender Brown. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry."

She patted him on the arm and Ulquiorra didn't even move, still taken by the horror, as she walked off to help herself to more butterbeer.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

Grimmjow smacked his forehead. "Kurosaki, this is the _third _time. USE THE DAMN DOOR!"

"_You_ never used the door!"

"Well I do now, dumbass!"

"Uh..."

"Stay out of this pineapple!"

"SAY WHAT?"

"Who are you writing to anyway?"

"...No one."

"Lemme see..."

"No! Mind your own damn business!"

"LET ME SEE!"

"FUCK OFF, KUROSAKI!"

"WHO ARE YOU WRITING TO! IS IT _**ULQUIORRA**_?"

"OBSCURO!"

"WHAT THE HELL? WHERE DID THIS BLINDFOLD COME FROM?"

"Tous Angéline droit, envoyer ceci à Potter."

"DAMMIT GRIMMJOW!"

* * *

"Hermione?"

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twit tering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. Ulquiorra noticed that her spellwork was still spectacular, even in her current emotional state.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

"They're very good." said Ulquiorra quietly. Hermione seemed distraught and utterly torn to see the man she secretly fancied in the arms of another. Ulquiorra could relate all too well.

Ulquiorra walked up to her, his footsteps resounding against the stone floor until he reached the teacher's desk where Hermione sat. He hoisted himself up and sat next to her, staring up at the yellow birds before turning back to her. "I know it's hard," Ulquiorra said softly, "and I know it hurts." Hermione looked at him, her eyes wavering. "But it will get easier, with time." Hermione ducked her head, trembling. "The heart is strong, and will always strive for what it desires. He _will_ come back. His heart commands it." Hermione's lips wobbled dangerously, and she threw herself at him, head buried in his chest, and her shuddering hands fisting the front of his shirt. Ulquiorra reflexively caught her, eyes wide, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the other resting idle at his side on the desk. Hermione's birds now circled the both of them, twittering away. He was able to handle the awkward position with some amount of proficiency since they were 'kindred spirits'.

Except, you know, he was in love with a woman that was beyond out of his league (or so he thought) and who had openly acted and confessed that she loved another man despite that he was completely oblivious to her _and _a total imbecile.

Hermione had a confused teenage moron ditching her when they never had acted on or talked about their feelings, as well it being obvious that he was acting in a moment of sheer idiocy that would no way in **hell** last for more than a year (tops).

He leaned in closer, so that his cheek was pressed softly against her bushy hair, feeling her body quiver with anguish under his hand. "It'll be okay. He will come around." Hermione leaned back, and Ulquiorra's arm slid off her shoulders. He pulled it back and his pale digits squeezed her left shoulder reassuringly. Hermione was still close and looked up at him tearfully. "He will?" Ulquiorra opened his mouth to answer in the assuring affirmative when the door behind them burst open. To Ulquiorra's irritation and horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Ulquiorra and Hermione; Hermione was leaning close to Ulquiorra, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Ulquiorra's hand was still on her shoulder, and her hands were still griping in his shirt.

To outside observers, it looked like Ulquiorra and Hermion were participating in their own private "celebrations". It was pretty awkward.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, gig gling. The door swung shut behind her.

There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron, who refused to look at her, and was staring at Ulquiorra strangely, something sparking bitterly in his eyes. He coughed and with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness said, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"

Hermione slid out of Ulquiorra's grip and off the desk. The little flock of golden birds followed her and con tinued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Ulquiorra glanced at Ron, who was looking stone like for some reason and relieved that nothing worse had happened. Ulquiorra saw movement near the doorway. His head snapped towards the door. "Hermi-"

"Oppugno!" came a shriek.

Ulquiorra saw Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach. _**Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.**_

_...What about Aizen?_

_**Like I said, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.**_

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Ulquiorra heard a sob before it slammed.

* * *

Ron was laughing, joking and friendly. Ulquiorra found this Ron more tolerable than the moody, jealous, bitter one, but of course, the new Ron came at a very heavy price.

A very, _very_, heavy price.

The price? The constant obnoxious never ending presence of Lavender Brown, who believed that a moment not kissing Ron was a moment not worth living. Needless to say, Ulquiorra had to put up with them making out.

A lot.

Also, he was now the friend of two people who seemed like they would never speak to each other ever again.

_...And I thought the Krum incident was bad..._Ulquiorra thought irritably, looking in curiosity as a Kestral(?) he was not familiar with swooped down in front of him, almost knocking over his breakfast juice. Ulquiorra untied the envelope addressed to him and tore it open. He unfolded the innocent parchment and looked it over. He choked on his toast (Ron didn't even notice, horny bastard).

_Schiffer, (Holy crap, he using my actual name. This **cannot **be good)_

_Soul Society is on to us. Repeat, **Soul Society is on to us. **And when I mean onto us, I mean, burst through my goddam window (three frickin' times) and knew I was a wizard onto us. PREPARE YOURSELF. Also, if you see Kaien before I do, hit him for me._

_Grimmjow_

Ulquiorra pushed his breakfast aside and plopped his head into his arms on the table. So immersed he was in his despair that he didn't notice the P.S.

_P.S. Saw Princess. She seems to be doing well. Seemed happy when you were mentioned. _

But don't worry Grimmjow. If he sees Kaien again, he _will _punch him. Oh, don't worry. HE WILL.

* * *

Kaien was afraid for some reason. Spontaneous chills just appeared all over his body. Weird.

* * *

"I went into the girl's bathroom just before I came in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion. They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work -"

"Why didn't you confiscate them then?" demanded Ulquiorra, it seemed extraordinary that Hermione's mania for upholding the rules could have abandoned her at this crucial juncture. That and Ulquiorra was now seriously concerned for his mental safety.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," said Hermione scornfully, "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt the Half-blood prince" she gave the potions textbook _another_ scornful look "could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you, that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting desperate."

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," mumbled Ulquiorra, flipping through the Prince, the woman's image blaring in his mind loudly. He shook it off. "Who are _you_ going with?" Hermione looked shifty. "Um...you'll see." She said nervously, and Ulquiorra (with feelings of dread) opened his mouth to ask what the hell she meant by that when-

"The library is now closed," she said, "Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct - _what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?"_

_Oh shit._

* * *

Ulquiorra hoped, in vain, that maybe if Ron and Hermione were separated for awhile, they could calm down, think rationally, and make up like calm, mature adults.

Yeah...well, it was worth a shot, right?

They had just embarked upon the immensely difficult topic of human transfiguration. They were working in front of mirrors , and they were supposed to be changing the color of their own eyebrows. Ulquiorra changed his to a vibrant deep green, with some gold smidges in the middle.

Ulquiorra had a feeling that Murciélago has something to do with it.

Ulquiorra watched, exasperated, as Hermione laughed unkindly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar mustache (seriously, _how_ did he do that?). Ron retaliated by doing a cruel (but sadly accurate) impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing and which reduced Hermione to the verge of tears again. She raced out of the classroom on the bell, leaving half her things behind, and Ulquiorra, deciding that her need was greater than Ron's just now, scooped up her remaining possessions and followed her.

He easily tracked her down as she emerged from a girl's bathroom on the floor below. She was accompanied by Luna Lovegood, who was patting her vaguely on the back.

"Oh, hello, Harry, " said Luna. " D id you know your eyebrows green and yellow?"

"Hello, Luna. Hermione, you left your belongings..."

He held out her books.

"Oh, yes," said Hermione in a choked voice, taking her things and turning away quickly to hide the fact she was wiping her eyes with her pencil case. "Thank you , Harry. Well, I'd better get going..."

And she hurried off, without ever giving Ulquiorra any time to offer words of comfort, though admittedly he could not think of any. That one moment between them was a once in a lifetime deal.

"She's a bit upset , " said Luna. "I thought at first it was Moaning Myrtle in there, but it turned out to be Hermione. She said something about Ron Weasley..."

"Yes, they've had a...disagreement," said Ulquiorra.

"He says funny things sometimes, doesn't he?" said Luna as they set off down the corridor together. "But he can be a bit unkind. I noticed that last year."

"Yes... " Ulquiorra agreed vaguely. Luna was demonstrating her usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; he had never met anyone quite like her. It was very refreshing. "So have you had a good term?"

"Oh, it's been all right," said Luna. " A bit lonely without the D.A. Ginny's been nice, though. She stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class calling me 'Loony' the other day -"

"How would you like to come to Slughorn's party with me tonight?"

The words were out of Ulquiorra's mouth before he could stop them; he heard himself say them as though it were a stranger speaking.

Luna turned her protuberant eyes to him in surprise.

"Slughorn's party? With you?"

"Yes," said Ulquiorra, "We're supposed to bring guests, so I thought you might like to, just as friends. But if you don't want to..." He was keen to make his intentions perfectly clear. Please god, have his intentions be perfectly clear.

"Oh no, I'd love to go with you as friends!" said Luna, beaming as he had never seen her beam before. "Nobody's ever asked me to a party before, as a friend! Is that why you dyed your eyebrow, for the party? Should I dye mine too?"

"No" said Ulquiorra firmly, "That was for class. I'll fix it later. So I'll meet you in the entrance hall at eight o'clock then. "

"AHA!" screamed a voice from overhead and both of them jumped; unnoticed by either of them, they had just passed underneath Peeves, who was hanging upside down from a chandelier and grinning maliciously at them.

_"Potty asked Loony to go to the part y ! Potty lurves Loony! Potty luuuuuurves Looooony!" _

And he zoomed away cackling and shrieking, "Potty loves Loony!"

Ulquiorra turned to Luna a irritated grimace on his face. "So much for privacy."

* * *

"That Katie thing really freaked them out, but as there hasn't been anything since... Oh, hi, Hermione!"

Parvati positively beamed. Ulquiorra could tell that she was feeling guilty for having laughed at Hermione in Transfiguration. He looked around and saw that Hermione was beaming back, if possible even more brightly. _Girls are very strange sometimes._ _...Wait... Murciélago?_

_**Yeah?**_

_What is she planning?_

_**Well, as a fellow female judging the facial expression, the fake cheeriness and this entire situation...I'd have to say some type of penetrating, subtle revenge of some sort.**_

_...Damn._ _I was hoping it wasn't that._

"Hi, Parvati!" said Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

"No invite," said Parvati gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good... You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're -"

There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink , and Ron surfaced. Hermione acted as though she had not seen or heard anything. Ulquiorra stared, baffled. Were _all_ girls this vindictive when it came to the men that scorned them? _**...You have to **__**ask?**_

"- we're going up to the party together."

"Cormac?" said Parvati. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

"That's right," said Hermione sweetly. "The one who _almost_" - she put a great deal of emphasis on the word - "became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Are you going out with him, then?" asked Parvati, wide-eyed.

"Oh - yes - didn't you know?" said Harmione, with a most un-Hermione-ish giggle. Ulquiorra felt that if he, in some universe, never remembered his past life and true identity as a refined dignified Espada, he would've gagged.

Elsewhere, in alternate universe, Harry James Potter sneezed in the midst of gagging as Hermione giggled most un-Hermioneishly.

"No!" said Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece of gossip. "Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen. . ."

"I like _really good _Quidditch players," Hermione corrected her, still smiling. "Well, see you... Got to go and get ready for the party..."

She left. At once Lavender and Parvati put their heads together to discuss this new development, with everything they had ever heard about McLaggen, and all they had ever guessed about Hermione. Ron looked strangely blank and said nothing. Ulquiorra was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

* * *

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," said Malfoy quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known. ..."

Ulquiorra stared critically at Malfoy. It was not the sucking-up that intrigued him; he had watched Malfoy do that to Snape for a long time. It was the fact that Malfoy looked a little ill. This was the first time he had seen Malfoy close up in a while, and could now see that Malfoy had dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly grayish tinge to his skin.

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," said Snape suddenly.

"Now , Severus," said Slughorn, hiccuping again, clearly a little wasted, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard —"

"I am his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or other wise, to be," said Snape curtly. "Follow me, Draco."

They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Ulquiorra stood there for a moment.

"I will return shortly Luna. I must use the restroom."

"All right,"

* * *

" . . . cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled —"

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"Who suspects me?" said Malfoy angrily. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes from under the cloak, ear pressed against the door. _I do, you dimwit._ "For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no on e knows about — don't look at me like that! I know what you're do ing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work — I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "Ah . . . Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?" _**This is so juicy! ...Great, now I really want to eat a peach...or a plum...maybe a strawberry...**_Ulquiorra silently deadpanned.

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don't want you butting in !" Ulquiorra frowned curiously. What had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this — Snape, toward whom he had always shown respect, even _liking_?

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco —"

"So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!" jeered Malfoy. Murciélago (seriously, how was she part of his soul?) gasped at the dramatic tension.

There was another pause. Then Snape said, "You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things ."

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office then!"

"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice so low now that Ulquiorra had to push his ear very hard against the keyhole to hear. _I bet I look like a complete idiot. _"I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco —"

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it, I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

"What is your plan ?" _Yes. __**What**__ is your plan?_

"It's none of your business !" _**Dude, it's **_**totally**_** his business.**_

" If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you ..." _He can assist you. Completely. TELL HIM._

"I have all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!" _**You ARE alone and you DON'T have all the assistance you need. SPILL.**_

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the ex treme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes —"

"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!"

"Keep your voice down!" spat Snape, for Malfoy ' s voice had risen. "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres —"

"What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts — its all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like any of us need pro tecting against the Dark Arts —" _What? Are you stupid? Defense against the Dark Arts is crucial to success._

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!"

…

"Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle —" _The bastard has a point._

"They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!" _**WHO? WE MUST KNOW.**_

"Then why not confide in me, and I can —"

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!" _**...Okay, that's just stupid.**_

_Great minds think alike._

There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your fathers capture and imprisonment has upset you, but —"

_**Crap. **_Ulquiorra dived out of the door's way as it slammed open and Malfoy (the younger) stormed out angrily and bypassing Slughorn's office, strode out of sight. Snape slowly walked back to the party, and Ulquiorra sat there a moment, mind racing, before getting up and returning to the party as well.

* * *

"Yes, Snape was offering to help him," said Ulquiorra, as he was reduced to prepare the Weasley dinner with Ron. Damn. "He said he had promised Malfoy's mother to protect him, that he'd made an Un breakable Vow —"

"An Unbreakable Vow?" said Ron, looking stunned. "Nah, he can't have. . . . Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," said Ulquiorra, turning to his (ugh) brussel sprouts. "Why?"

"Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow. . . ." Murciélago face palmed.

"You know, I'd _somehow_ worked that much out for myself. What happens if you break it, then?"

"You die," said Ron simply. "Fred and George tried to get me to make one when I was about five. I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when Dad found us. He went mental," said Ron, with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. "Only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Mum, Fred reckons his left but tock has never been the same since." _…_

**...**_**Really**_**?**

_...Why me, dammit?_

* * *

"Has it occurred to you, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, "that Snape was simply pretending — ?"

"Pretending to offer help, so that he could find out what Malfoy's up to?" Ulquiorra finished bluntly. "Yes, I thought you would say that. But how do we know?" Ulquiorra found the whole behavior suspicous...especially the Unbreakable Vow.

"It isn't our business to know," said Lupin unexpectedly. He had turned his back on the fire now and faced Ulquiorra across Mr. Weasley. "It's Dumbledore's business. Dumbledore trusts Severus, and that ought to be good enough for all of us."

"But," said Ulquiorra, "What if Dumbledore has misplaced his faith in Snape —"

"People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore's judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus." _...Such blind loyalty...it's so...so..._

_**Dog like.**_

"But Dumbledore can make mistakes," argued Ulquiorra, narrowing his eyes. He wasn't saying that Snape was necessarily on the opposite side, he just wanted people to be more prepared and open in case he was. Lepords don't change their spots, after all. "He says it himself. And you" — he looked Lupin straight in the eye — "do you, not following Dumbledore's judgment, trust Snape?" Lupin paused.

"I trust Severus," said Lupin. "No, Harry, I am speaking the truth," he added, as Ulquiorra and Sirius, who came back from the kitchen, pulled a skeptical and betrayed (respectively) expres sion. "We shall never be bosom friends, perhaps; after all that hap pened between James and Sirius and Severus, there is too much bitterness there." Sirius grinned. "Guilty." Lupin ignored him, still facing and addressing Ulquiorra.

"But I do not forget that during the year I taught at Hogwarts, Severus made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so that I did not have to suffer as I usu ally do at the full moon."

"But he 'accidentally' let it slip that you're a werewolf, so you had to leave." said Ulquiorra pointedly.

Lupin shrugged. "The news would have leaked out anyway. We both know he wanted my job, but he could have wreaked much worse damage on me by tampering with the potion. He kept me healthy. I must be grateful."

"Perhaps with Dumbledore keeping such a observant eye, he did not want to appear suspicious and tamper with it." Ulquiorra countered.

"You are determined to hate him, Harry," said Lupin with a faint smile, to Ulquiorra's irritation. He was keeping his eyes open! There was a _difference_! "And I understand; with James as your father, with Sir ius as your godfather, you have inherited an old prejudice. By all means tell Dumbledore what you have told Arthur and me, but do not expect him to share your view of the matter; do not even expect him to be surprised by what you tell him. It might have been on Dumbledore's orders that Severus questioned Draco." _It would not be surprising, but it does not matter. Just because Dumbledore ordered Snape to question Malfoy doesn't mean he doesn't have his own agenda. _

_Playing the loyal pet to someone proves nothing._

_The Espada have proven that._

* * *

"Greyback?" Ulquiorra tilted his head. "Who is Greyback? I have heard of him but I do not know much."

Lupin's hands closed convulsively in his lap. "Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to conta minate as many people as possible. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for his services. Greyback specializes in children. . . . Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards. Voldemort has threatened to unleash him upon people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good results."

Lupin paused and then said, "It was Greyback who bit me." Ulquiorra blinked, and nodded thoughtfully. Lupin had been bitten as a child, after all, and if this Greyback specialized in children...

"Oh?"

"Yes. My father had offended him. For a very long time I did not know the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking that he had had no control, know ing by then how it felt to transform. But Greyback is not like that. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of reasoned argument is making much headway against Greyback's insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge ourselves on normal people."

"You are perfectly normal." said Ulquiorra fiercely. He despised prejudice. Humans vs. Werewolves, Shinigami vs. Arrancar. They were part Shinigami as well, why were _they_ prosecuted? Why not the vizards? Why were arrancars the bigger threat, when all they wanted was to remain in Hueco Mundo in peace, while vizards plotted revenge against Soul Society?

Which they did, but once they found out the Central 46 had been slaughtered by Aizen, it was rendered moot, to their great disappointment.

"You've only have a — a problem —" Ulquiorra was _terrible_ at comforting people, so of course he ends up sounding like an insensitive moron.

However, Lupin burst out laughing. "Sometimes you remind me a lot of James. He called it my 'furry little problem' in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit." Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow.

* * *

Ulquiorra's presents included a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked onto the front, hand-knitted by Mrs. Weasley, a large box of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products from the twins, a mirror from a two way mirror set from Sirius (apparently he and his father (go figure) used it to communicate in detentions together), Hermione got him something that he found surprisingly practical (since most of the gifts she gave him weren't), which was a pair of thick black winter gloves. ...And black nail polish. Ulquiorra assumed that was a joke on her part, but knew he would use it.

Grimmjow bought him Batman boxer shorts.

...Nice.

* * *

Grimmjow's eye twitched irritably as he held up the pink cat eared headband at arms length.

_Damn Ulquiorra..._

* * *

There was a moment's painful silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly, "Merry Christmas, Mother."

"Oh, Percy!" said Mrs. Weasley, and she threw herself into his arms. Ulquiorra inwardly scoffed. There was _no_ way this was a coincidence. Not with the Minister here.

Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on his walk ing stick and smiling as he observed this affecting scene. Murciélago hissed.

"You must forgive this intrusion," he said, when Mrs. Weasley looked around at him, beaming and wiping her eyes. "Percy and I were in the vicinity — working, you know — and he couldn't re sist dropping in and seeing you all."

But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the family. He stood woodenly and stared over everybody else's heads. Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George were all observing him, stony-faced.

"Please, come in, sit down, Minister!" fluttered Mrs. Weasley, straightening her hat. "Have a little purkey, or some tooding. ... I mean —"

"No, no, my dear Molly," said Scrimgeour. Ulquiorra guessed that he had checked her name with Percy before they entered the house. "I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly. . . ." _**Oh, gag me.**_

"Oh, Perce!" said Mrs. Weasley tearfully, reaching up to kiss him.

". . . We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden . . . Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?" Ulquiorra sighed exasperatedly. Honestly, why couldn't anyone learn the concept of subtlety_?_

* * *

"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time," said Scrimgeour, after a few moments. "Did you know that?"

"No," said Ulquiorra bluntly. Hey, knowing and assuming something to the point of knowledge were different.

"Oh yes, for a very long time. But Dumbledore has been very protective of you," said Scrimgeour. "Natural, of course, natural, after what you've been through. . . . Especially what happened at : the Ministry …"

He waited for Ulquiorra to say something, but Ulquiorra merely glared lightly, so he went on, "I have been hoping for an occasion to talk to you ever since I gained office, but Dumbledore has — most under standably, as I say — prevented this."

Still, Ulquiorra said nothing, waiting. Murciélago hummed (_dammit, Murciélago, do not even THINK about getting Small World stuck in my head_) impatiently.

"The rumors that have flown around!" said Scrimgeour continued. "Well, of course, we both know how these stories get distorted ... all these whispers of a prophecy . . . of you being 'the Chosen One'. . ."

Would he just hurry up? Ulquiorra thought, sighing and glancing lazily to the side at a garden gnome.

"I assume that Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?"

"...Yes, we've discussed it."

"Have you, have you . . ." said Scrimgeour. Ulquiorra could see, out of the corner of his eye, Scrimgeour squinting at him, and he snorted. "Tch."

"And what has Dumbledore told you, Harry?"

"None of your business," said Ulquiorra immediately. He was getting cold.

"Oh, of course, if it's a question of confidences, I wouldn't want you to divulge . . . no, no ... and in any case, does it really matter whether you are 'the Chosen One' or not?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously," said Scrim geour with a forced laugh. "But to the Wizarding community at large . . . it's all perception, isn't it? It's what people believe that's important."

Ulquiorra said nothing. He thought he saw where they were heading, but he was not going to help Scrimgeour get there. Ulquiorra was bitter and annoyed, and when Ulquiorra was bitter and annoyed, he tended to be a real bastard to the person he was bitter and annoyed at.

"People believe you are 'the Chosen One,' you see," said Scrim geour. "They think you quite the hero — which, of course, you are, Harry, chosen or not! How many times have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now? Well, anyway," he pressed on, without waiting for a reply, "the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Harry. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be destined, to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named — well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realize this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost."

"'Stand along side the Ministry, huh?" Ulquiorra mused quietly. Scrimgeour, the moron, considered his mulling of the thought to be a positive and beamed.

"Oh, well, nothing at all onerous, I assure you," said Scrim geour. "If you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that would give the right impres sion. And of course, while you were there, you would have ample : opportunity to speak to Gawain Robards, my successor as Head of the Auror office. Dolores Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily. ..."

Ulquiorra felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. So Dolores Umbridge was still at the Ministry? Damn corrupted government system.

"You want me to give the impression that I'm working with the Ministry."

"It would give everyone a lift to think you were more involved, Harry," said Scrimgeour, sounding relieved that Ulquiorra had caught on so quickly (which of course he did, I mean, he's _Ulquiorra_). "'The Chosen One,' you know. . . It's all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are hap pening. ..."

"But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry," said Ulquiorra, not bothering to keep his voice pleasant (nor unpleasant) "won't that seem as though I approve of what the Ministry's actions?"

"Well," said Scrimgeour, frowning slightly, "well, yes, that's partly why we'd like —"

"No, I don't think that will work," said Ulquiorra calmly. "You see, I don't approve some of the things the Ministry's doing. Imprisioning Stan Shunpike, for instance and, more importantly, keeping Umbridge in your employment."

Scrimgeour did not speak for a moment but his expression hard ened instantly. "I would not expect you to understand," he said, and he was not as successful at keeping his voice as neutral as Ulquiorra had been. "These are dangerous times, and certain measures need to be taken. You are sixteen years old —"

"It does not matter. I am infinitely more experienced in this area than you are-" Seriously, decades of being an Vasto Lorde/Arrancar/Espada plus having faced Voldemort _five_ freakin' times. That's an automatic 1 million points for Ulquiorra. Plus the natural badassness. "You're making Stan a scapegoat, just like you want to make me a mascot."

They looked at each other, long and hard. Finally Scrimgeour said, with no pretense at warmth, "I see. You prefer — like your hero, Dumbledore — to disassociate yourself from the Ministry?" _…_

_Dumbledore? Hero?_

…_Seriously? The guy's a manipulative jackass._

…_**Blergh.**_

"Dumbledore isn't my hero. I merely don't want to be used," said Ulquiorra.

"Some would say it's your duty to be used by the Ministry!"

"I give little care for duty in this place. You don't care whether I live or die, all you care about is that I help you convince everyone you're winning the war against Voldemort. I haven't forgotten, Minister..."

He raised his right hand up. There, shining white on the back of his cold hand, were the scars which Dolores Umbridge had forced him to carve into his own flesh: _I must not tell lies. _

"I don't remember you rushing to my defense when I was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry was not so eager to be comrades last year." A pause.

"What is Dumbledore up to?" said Scrimgeour brusquely. "Where does he go when he is absent from Hogwarts?"

"No idea," said Ulquiorra, turning away back to the Burrow.

"And you wouldn't tell me if you knew," said Scrimgeour, "would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," said Ulquiorra.

"Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other means." Ulquiorra smirked at his naivety.

"You can try," said Ulquiorra indifferently. "But you seem brighter than Fudge, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from his mis takes. He tried interfering at Hogwarts. You might have noticed he's not Minister anymore, but Dumbledore's still headmaster. I'd leave Dumbledore alone."

There was a_nother_ long pause.

"Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you," said Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses, "Dumbledore's man through and through, aren't you, Potter?" Ulquiorra scoffed and Murciélago giggled disbelievingly.

"Repugnant." Ulquiorra muttered and walked away.

* * *

Hermione sat in thought for a moment and then said, "Don't you think — ?"

"— he was pretending to offer help so that he could fool Malfoy into telling him what he's doing?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione.

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so," Ulquiorra murmured. "But this definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."

"No, I can't," she answered slowly.

"And he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said." Ulquiorra felt rather smug at this. After being scoffed at and passed off as a paranoid idiot for months, you would be too.

"Hmm .. . did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?" Ulquiorra deadpanned. Honestly, it wasn't that unbelievable!

Meanwhile, in another simpler world, about a million Harry Potter fans agree with this statement.

"Snape said 'your master,' and who else would that be?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?" ..._His father is in Azkaban, you idiot._

Ulquiorra decided to change the subject, not in the mood to deal with Hermione's childish and obnoxious denial that Ulquiorra might be right about something she wasn't. "Have you heard of Fenrir Greyback?"

"Yes, I have!" said Hermione, sounding startled. "And so have you, Harry!" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes.

"I know I have." Ulquiorra commented dryly. Hermione looked utterly surprised, and Ulquiorra decided to drop his 'Harry' act more. Seriously, people were starting to think he was a total moron thanks to it.

"Malfoy threatened Borgin with him!" said Hermione. "Back in Knockturn Alley, he told Borgin that Greyback was an old family friend and that he'd be checking up on Borgin's progress!"

"Which proves Malfoy is a Death Eater, how else could he be in contact with Greyback and telling him what to do?" Ulquiorra smirked with this information. Ha.

"It is pretty suspicious," breathed Hermione. "Unless . . ."

Murciélago and Ulquiorra's eyebrows twitched in tandem.

"Well . . . there is the possibility it was an empty threat."

"Unbelievable," muttered Ulquiorra, shaking his head. "We'll see who's right. . . . You'll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the Ministry. Oh yeah, I had a argument with Rufus Scrimgeour as well. . . "

* * *

_APPARITION LESSONS _

If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31st August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor. Please sign below if you would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons.

"Hmmm...Interesting."

* * *

"YOU!" The unkept man bellowed. "YOU!"

And he hurtled drunkenly at Riddle, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop."

Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man who Ulquiorra assumed to be Morfin skidded into the table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"You speak it?" _**No, he was speaking Portuguese. Dumbass. **_

"Yes, I speak it," said Riddle. He moved forward into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Ulquiorra was impressed, but not surprised, by Voldemort's complete lack of fear. His face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

The sad thing was, Ulquiorra would have worn, and was currently wearing, the same exact expression.

"Where is Marvolo?" Voldemort asked.

"Dead," said the other. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Riddle frowned.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

"Marvolo's son?"

"'Course I am, then..."

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle, and Ulquiorra noted keenly that he wore Marvolo's black-stoned ring on his right hand.

"I thought you was that Muggle," whispered Morfin. "You look mighty like that Muggle."

"What Muggle?" said Riddle sharply.

"That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it. ..."

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge of the table for support. "He come back, see," he added stupidly.

Voldemort was gazing at Morfin as though appraising his possibilities. Now he moved a little closer and said, "Riddle came back?"

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off. , Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"

Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and shouted, "Dishonored us, , she did, that little slut! And whore you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit. . . . It's over. ..."

_It's never over...never..._

* * *

"...So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not need to question him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency. He admitted to the Riddle's murder on the spot, giving details only the murderer could know. He was proud, he said, to have killed the Muggles, had been awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight.

All that disturbed him was the fact that his fathers ring had disappeared. 'He'll kill me for losing it,' he told his captors over and over again. 'He'll kill me for losing his ring.' And that, apparently, was all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo's last heirloom, and is buried beside the prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls."

"So Voldemort stole Morfin's wand and used it." said Ulquiorra tonelessly. _Clever, very clever. Framing Morfin was a smart move...renowned for despising Muggles, already having previous offenses in attacking said Muggle...indeed, very clever. A perfect calculation. _

_**Hate to think it, but kudos Voldie.**_

* * *

Voldemort, in the midst of plotting and committing random murders (just for kicks, cuz' he's Lord effin' Voldemort) blinked confusedly when a random cheerful and strangely dangerous female voice in his head chirped, "Kudos, you snakeish bastard!"

* * *

"That's right," said Dumbledore. "We have no memories to show us this, but I think we can be fairly sure what happened. Voldemort Stupefied his uncle, took his wand, and proceeded across the valley to 'the big house over the way.' There he murdered the Muggle man who had abandoned his witch mother, and, for good measure, his Muggle grandparents, thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Riddle line and revenging himself upon the father who never wanted him. Then he returned to the Gaunt hovel, performed the complex bit of magic that would implant a false memory in his uncle's mind, laid Morfin's wand beside its unconscious owner, pocketed the ancient ring he wore, and departed."

"And Morfin never realized he hadn't done it?"

"Never," said Dumbledore. "He gave, as I say, a full and boastful confession."

"But he had this real memory in him all the time."

"Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax it out of him," said Dumbledore, "and why should anybody delve further into Morfin's mind when he had already confessed to the crime? However, I was able to secure a visit to Morfin in the last weeks of his life, by which time I was attempting to discover as much as I could about Voldemort's past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I saw what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure Morfin's release from Azkaban. Before the Ministry reached their decision, however, Morfin had died."

"But how come the Ministry didn't realize that Voldemort had done all that to Morfin?" Ulquiorra asked irritatedly, "He was underage at the time, wasn't he? I thought they could detect underage magic."

"You are quite right — they can detect magic, but not the perpetrator: You will remember that you were blamed by the Ministry for the Hover Charm that was, in fact, cast by —"

"Dobby," growled Ulquiorra; this injustice still supremely pissed him off. "So if you're underage and you do magic inside an adult witch or wizard's house, the Ministry won't know?"

"They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly at the look of great indignation on Ulquiorra's face. "They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offspring's obedience while within their walls."

"Well, that's ridiculous," snapped Ulquiorra. "Look what happened here, look what happened to Morfin."

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "Whatever Morfin was, he did not deserve to die as he did, blamed for murders he had not committed. But it is getting late, and I want you to see this other memory before we part. ..."

It was only then, that Dumbledore realized that 'Harry' might not just the typical brainless hero that he portrayed. Dumbledore suddenly saw a darker, crueler, and bitter persona as Ulquiorra bright green eyes darkened to a deep vivid and wicked emerald, though his face remained impassive; a look of light curiosity pasted onto his face.

Dumbledore suddenly felt troubled...and...

Afraid.

* * *

Ulquiorra looked around as Dumbledore appeared beside him and saw that they were standing in Slughorn's office. Around six boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his; _Ah, hierarchy. That son of a bitch never fails._ Ulquiorra spotted Voldemort at once. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair Marvolo's gaudy ring gracing his finger. So he had already murdered his father. Interesting.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks. Ah, he was already using his superior talents and charisma to attract followers. Smart, very smart. It vaguely disturbed Ulquiorra how he agreed with Voldemort's tactics to gain power, but it wasn't _his _fault that Voldemort did it in an efficient and logical manner.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite — "

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that Ulquiorra could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside him. Then Slughorn's voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loudly, "You'll go wrong, boy, mark my words. "

The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared and yet nobody made any allusion to it, nor did anybody look as though anything unusual had just happened. Ulquiorra blinked slowly. _Hmm...Perhaps someone has altered the memory...although only Slughorn would have access to that..._

* * *

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" said Slughorn. "You'd better get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

Slughorn pulled himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk as the boys filed out. Voldemort, however, stayed behind. Ulquiorra could tell he had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be last in the room with Slughorn, wishing to speak with the professor alone.

"Look sharp, Tom," said Slughorn, turning around and finding him still present. "You don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect..."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about. . . about Horcruxes?"

And it happened all over again: The dense fog filled the room so that Ulquiorra could not see Slughorn or Voldemort at all; only Dumbledore, smiling serenely beside him. Then Slughorn's voice boomed out again, just as it had done before.

"I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again!"

* * *

"That's it?" said Ulquiorra bluntly.

Dumbledore had said that this was the most important memory of all, but all it seemed to prove that Voldemort had an interest in Horcruxes. Ulquiorra was unsure what exactly a Horcrux _was_, although he could infer that it was some type of dark magic.

"As you might have noticed," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk, "that memory has been tampered with."

"Obviously."

"Certainly," said Dumbledore continued, as though Ulquiorra hadn't spoken. "Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections."

"But why would he do that?"

"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," said Dumbledore. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations.

"And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all."

_Hm._

* * *

"Golpalott's-Third-Law- states-that-the-antidote-for-a-blended-poison-will-be-equal-to- more-than-the-sum-of-the-antidotes-for-each-of-the-separale- components."

"Precisely!" beamed Slughorn. "Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, if we accept Golpalott's Third Law as true ..."

Ulquiorra glanced at Ron, who looked utterly baffled and began to doodle in his textbook. Ulquiorra resisted the urge to snort in utter derision. Ron forgot that Hermione would no longer help him. Again.

"... which means, of course, that assuming we have achieved correct identification of the potion's ingredients by Scarpin's Revelaspell, our primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to those ingredients in a of themselves, but to find that added component which will, by an almost alchemical process, transform these disparate elements -" None of the class execpt for Hermione and Ulquiorra (though Ulquiorra doubted that people would actually realize that he knew what Slughorn was saying) knew what the hell Slughorn was talking about. Idiots.

"... and so," finished Slughorn, "I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don't forget your protective gloves!"

_**...Alright, seems simple enough.**_

_Yes. But doing all that work is pointless. There is a much simpler solution to this._

_**Ah, yes. Nice thinking Master. Now we can focus on the Slughorn memory dealio that The Bastard is making us do.**_

_Indeed. So __Veritaserum_ _will not work since he has probably gained some form of antibodies to it..._

* * *

Ron stared at Harry flabbergasted as he didn't even touch his vial. He had gone up with everyone and collected a poison sample. Then he went to the supply cabinent and gotten something from the shelves, put it in his pocket, and returned smoothly. Now, he was writing down a detailed plan of something that didn't even _relate_ to potions. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" Ron hissed as he tried to succeed on his own; he was failing pretty hard. Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I am preparing." He said coolly, totally at ease and blasé that he was going to fail. "But-!"

"Your cauldron is on fire."

Ron swore.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared down at his parchment thoughtfully. He and Murciélago went through multiple ideas, and debated them thoughtfully. In the end, it boiled down to the simplest, oldest, and most effective trick in the book.

Get Slughorn alone and wasted.

* * *

Ulquiorra decided it would be unwise to approach Slughorm. He was normally introverted, and taking initiative and asking a _teacher_ for a drink would be extremely out of character. No. He would wait. Like a cat stalking its prey. Ulquiorra froze.

_Like a cat stalking its prey._

_Like a **cat** stalking its prey._

_Like a **Cat. ** _

Oh God.

* * *

Ulquiorra left the classroom with Hermione, said girl being furious with him. Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why you're upset." She fumed. "Of course I'm upset. You didn't even do any work!"

"Why should I when I have a simple, accessible and effective method at my access? It seems rather pointless to do so. Besides," Ulquiorra cut her off. "I understand the material. That is all that matters." Hermione seemed skeptical. "Really? _You_ understand Golpalott's-Third-Law?" Ulquiorra glared at her impassively. "Of course. Why on earth wouldn't I?"

* * *

Ulquiorra listened dully as the man blabbered on about the "three D's". He stored the information carelessly in the back of his mind, more intent on analyzing the overheard conversation Malfoy had with Goyle. Something about a lookout...this would need more investigation.

"One..." Oh, it was starting.

"Two..." _**I'm bored, Master.**_

_You and me both._

"THREE!"

CRACK!

Ulquiorra appeared in the large hoop in a graceful and dramatic swish of robes, his silky hair swaying in the suddenly made breeze. His sharp green eyes blinked stoically at the gaping shock of everyone else in the hall.

His hands never even left his pockets.

* * *

"Have a happy celebration of the day of your birth, Ron." Ulquiorra intoned, tossing a package towards the freckled boy. The present was now a mere formality. Actually, hanging out with Ron was a mere formality nowadays. While Ron had been informative, entertaining, and considered to be Ulquiorra's first "friend", Ulquiorra was now quickly outgrowing his obnoxious and never ending childishness.

"Seriously good haul this year!" Ron announced, holding up a heavy gold watch with odd symbols around the edge and tiny moving stars instead of hands. "See what Mum and Dad got me? Blimey, I think I'll come of age next year too ..."

"Wonderful," muttered Ulquiorra, sparing the watch a glance before peering more closely at the Marauders map. Where was Malfoy? He did not seem to be at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, eating breakfast ... he was nowhere near Snape, who was sitting in his study ... he wasn't in any of the bathrooms or in the hospital wing ...

"Want one?" said Ron thickly, holding out a box of Chocolate Cauldrons.

"No," said Ulquiorra curtly, looking up. "Malfoy's gone again."

"Can't have done," said Ron, stuffing a second Cauldron into his mouth (another thing that was rapidly growing more and more infuriating) as he slid out of bed to get dressed. "Come on. if you don't hurry up you'll have to Apparate on an empty-stomach ... might make it easier, I suppose ..."

Ron looked thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and helped himself to a third.

Ulquiorra tapped the map with his wand, muttered, "Mischief managed," though it hadn't been, and got dressed, thinking hard. There had **to be**an explanation for Malfoy's periodic disappearances, the answer was close, but it kept evading Ulquiorra like smoke evading the grasp of a small child. The best way of finding out would be to tail him, bur even with the Invisibility Cloak this was an impractical idea; he had lessons, Quidditch practice, and homework; he could not follow Malfoy around school all day without his absence being remarked upon.

"Ready?" he said to Ron dismissively, not even thinking of getting an answer before he started to walk off.

He was halfway to the dormitory door when he realized that Ron had not moved, but was leaning on his bedpost, staring out of the rain-washed window with a strangely un focused look on his face.

"Ronald? Breakfast."

"I'm not hungry,"

Ulquiorra stared at him.

"I thought you just said -?"

"Well, all right, I'll come down with you," sighed Ron, "but I don't want to eat."

Ulquiorra scrutinized him suspiciously.

"You've just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, haven't you? Despite that, that should not put off your appetite since you are a total glutton."

"It's not that," Ron sighed again, not even vaguely insulted. "You ... you wouldn't understand." Ulquiorra thought about that and shrugged.

"Fair enough," said Ulquiorra as he turned to open the door.

"Harry!" said Ron suddenly.

"_What?"_

"Harry, I can't stand it!"

"You can't stand what?" asked Ulquiorra, now starting to feel definitely annoyed, but that was partially replaced by curiosity as he saw that Ron was rather pale and looked as though he was about to be sick.

"I can't stop thinking about her!" said Ron hoarsely.

Ulquiorra felt his black lips open softly in a gaping expression. He had not expected this and was not sure he wanted to hear it. "Friends" they might be, but if Ron started calling Lavender 'Lav-Lav', he would have to put his foot down. Or ditch him. Ditching him sounded good.

"Why does that stop you having breakfast?" Ulquiorra asked, trying to inject a note of common sense into the proceedings.

"I don't think she knows I exist," said Ron with a desperate gesture. _**I think we're missing something here, Master.**_

"Who are _you_talking about?" said Ulquiorra, with an increasing sense that all logic had dropped dead out of the conversation and had flown to heaven.

"Romilda Vane," said Ron softly, and his whole face seemed to illuminate as he said it, as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight. They stared at each other for almost a whole minute, before Ulquiorra said, "This is a joke, right? You're joking, although it is much more obnoxious than funny."

"I think ... Harry, I think I love her," said Ron in a strangled voice.

"Alright," said Ulquiorra, walking up to Ron to get a better look at the glazed eyes and the pallid complexion, "'Say that again with a straight face."

"I love her," repeated Ron breathlessly. "Have you seen her hair, it's all black and shiny and silky ... and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her -"

"This is not even remotely funny and frankly, it's a little disturbing," said Ulquiorra impatiently, "but joke's over. Drop it." Ulquiorra was easily able to sense the incoming fist. And Ulquiorra, being Ulquiorra ninja badass, was able to move an inch to the left, catch the wrist attached to the incoming fist of "doom", ninja flip that suddenly insane(r) teen to the floor, and plant a firm foot on the boy's chest. "What. The. _Hell?"_

"You insulted her, Harry! You said it was a joke!' shouted Ron, attempting to squirm out from under Ulquiorra's foot, which was pressing harder and harder onto his chest. Would probably bruise it.

...Meh.

Ulquiorra then he saw the box lying open on Ron's bed and the truth hit him with the force of a ravenous Gillian.

Or Grimmjow.

"Where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?"

"They were a birthday present!" shouted Ron, breath shortening as Ulquiorra's foot began to dangerously cut off his oxygen supply. "I offered you one, didn't I?"

"You just picked them up off the floor, didn't you?"

"They'd fallen off my bed, all right? Let me go!"

"They didn't fall off your bed, you _prat,_" Ulquiorra was so pissed off that he resorted in using _British_ slang, "don't you under stand? They were mine, I tossed them out of my trunk when I was looking for the map. They're the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda Vane gave me before Christmas and they're all spiked with love potion! You imbecile!"

* * *

Ulquiorra obviously had a problem. Ron was under the influence of a love potion. And thus, was lusting after Romilda Vane.

This sucked.

A lot.

On one hand, Ulquiorra could let Ron roam free and make an ass out of himself and get a few (internal) laughs.

On the other hand, that would beyond douche-y and cause all sorts of problems that Ulquiorra would unfortunately have to deal with later.

On the bright side, it opened opportunity.

"Professor, I'm really sorry to disturb you," Ulquiorra said politely, easily restraining Ron from entering his office, "but my friend Ron's swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn't make him an antidote, could you?"

* * *

Operation: Con Slughorn for the Stupid Memory was placed into effect. It was going smoothly.

Probably would've worked too if Ron hadn't gotten poisoned.

That idiot.

* * *

This was just annoying. I mean, he explained what happened five times. At this point, he wanted to slam his head against a wall and knock himself out.

". . . and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit, Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They believe he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so ... keep taking essence of rue . . ." Ulquiorra finished boredly, glancing over at the quiet redhead. He was sleeping now, mumbling quietly in his sleep. Ulquiorra didn't bother to listen, and neither did his fiesty Zanpaktou. They had bigger worries.

"So the poison was in the drink?" said Fred quietly.

"Yes," said Ulquiorra immediately "Slughorn poured it out —"

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you seeing?"

"Probably," said Ulquiorra, "but I do not see a logical motive for Slughorn trying to poison Ron."

"You don't think he could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you?" said Fred, frowning.

"Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?" asked Ginny. _Oh __**god,**__ there were __**so**__ many reasons._

"I dunno," said Fred, "but there must be loads of people who'd like to poison Harry, mustn't there? 'The Chosen One' and all that?"

"So you think Slughorn's a Death Eater?" said Ginny. _**Uh, no**__._

"Anything's possible," said Fred darkly.

"He could be under the Imperius Curse," said George.

"Or he could be innocent," said Ginny. "The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself."

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?" _I'm sure lots of people._

"Dumbledore thinks Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," said Ulquiorra, though honestly he couldn't give two shits about what that man thought, "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And . . ." He thought of the memory Dumbledore had not yet been able to extract from Slughorn. "And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give drink to Dumbledore for Christmas," Ginny reminded him. "So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."

"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Hermione, speaking for the first time in hours and sounding as though she had a bad head cold. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have I known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself." Ulquiorra dipped his head in acknowledgment for her assessment. "True," he murmured, "The attacker is either someone extremely foolish, or perhaps does not have proper motivation."

It was quiet after that.

_...**It was totally Malfoy, wasn't it?**_

_Obviously._

_**...Will anyone-?**_

_Considering how narrow minded these idiots are, I doubt it._

* * *

Ron's poisoning didn't stir up much interest. Ulquiorra could see why. Ron was immediately "cured", and in the Potions Master's room at the time. It seemed like a genuine mix up to outside observers. The students were more interested in the upcoming Quidditch match, though Ulquiorra could honestly care less. Quidditch had merely been a interesting hobby, and a way to fly again. However, the game itself wasn't a big importance to him.

Thus, Ulquiorra honestly felt like materializing Murciélago's blade and stabbing McLaggen since the bastard kept bugging him about it.

* * *

Ulquiorra also felt like stabbing Lavender Brown as well.

Seriously, why the hell would he know (and _care_) about the status of Ron and Lavender's relationship and whether it was "serious"?

* * *

_Jaggerjaques,_

_Ron was poisoned._

_-Harry James Potter_

* * *

_Bastard,_

_You __**still**__ hang out with that guy?_

_-The King_

* * *

_Jaggerjaques,_

_For some unexplainable reason. I am planning on ditching him soon. Somehow._

_-Harry James Potter_

* * *

_Bastard,_

_Good call. Soul Society bug you yet?_

_-The King_

* * *

_Jaggerjaques,_

_No._

_-Harry James Potter_

* * *

_Bastard,_

_Lucky Son of a Bitch._

_-The King_

* * *

Grimmjow's eye twitched.

This. Sucked.

"Kill him!"

This sucked A LOT.

"He's a frickin' _human_ now! We _can't_ kill him, you dolt!"

"Get Central 46's permission and _then_ kill him!"

"...Uh, we could just let him go and live his normal life-"

"Shut up Shiba."

"...Gee, you're welcome Grimmjow."

"..."

"Let me dissect him!" Grimmjow rolled his eyes and turned to the equally exasperated old guy with the cane.

"Yeah...can I go home now?" The old guy sighed.

* * *

Grimmjow sighed, shaking his head twenty minutes later in the human world once again.

Seriously, _two hours_ of debating his fate after kidnapping him from his nice morning nap, and they come up with, "Give him his punishment when he's actually dead"? The fuck? On that note, where the hell was he? Looked like London.

Fucking morons. Oh well. Might as well see The Bat Bastard. Just to screw with the fucker's head. Grimmjow grinned a panther's grin. He was starting to feel better already~!

* * *

Ulquiorra groaned. Fuck. He was going to _kill_ that bastard. Kill him _good._

_**That bastard! I can't believe he hit a bludger at your **_**head.**

_McLaggen dies. Dies painfully._

_**Already done. I've got photos.**_

* * *

Elsewhere, McLaggen attempted to scream through his gag as he dangled upside down from the Gryffindor Common Room in nothing but his underwear. The Gryffindor Quidditch Team looked at him thoughtfully.

"Who _did_ this?"

"Dunno."

"...We should buy them something nice."

"We should!"

"...So, when do we let him down?"

"..."

"-Flash!-"

"Well, I got some pictures. You can let him down whenever now."

"Wanna just leave him here?"

"..."

"Oh, yeah, sounds good to me."

"I'm cool with that."

"'Night, guys."

"MPHF!"

* * *

_...Nicely done Murciélago._

_**Well, I try- OMG, PANTERA~!**_

_...God? If you're listening, please tell me that my Zanpaktou did NOT just squeal out Grimmjow's-_

"'Sup douche?"

"..." _...God? Yeah, I hate you._

* * *

**A/N: So yeah. Review Please! Reviewing is good! **_  
_


	9. Year 6: Acedia

**A/N: So. I'm back. Part two of Envy! Yay! Just in time for New Years too! Happy Holidays guys! Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope it fulfills your expectations! If not, than don't flame me. If you do flame me, expect a cheerful reply back, as I find flames (just flames and not constructive criticism) absolutely hilarious. I don't own Bleach.  
**

**Acedia (also accidie or accedie, from Latin _acedĭa_, and this from Greek ἀκηδία, negligence) describes a state of listlessness or torpor, of not caring or not being concerned with one's position or condition in the world.  
-Wikipedia**

**THERE WILL BE _NO_ CONTEST ON IDENTIFYING WHY I CHOSE THIS MINI SIN FOR THE CHAPTER TITLE. People keep doing it, even when there isn't a contest for some reason.**

* * *

_**Year**** 6: **__**Acedia**_

"So, Soul Society didn't do anything to you, despite _kidnapping_ you in the middle of the morning?"

"Pretty much. Until we kick the bucket, we're pretty much golden."

"...Swell."

"Yep."

"..."

"...We're only gonna last like, 2 more years...aren't we?"

"That is what logic seems to point to."

* * *

Herbology essay. Check. Hermione deciding to forgive Ron's past stupidity (thank you poison). Check. Ron and Lavender on the verge of breaking up. Check.

Murciélago (and Pantera) stalking Malfoy?

Check.

* * *

Ron glared. Hermione beamed. Ulquiorra shifted awkwardly.

Grimmjow grinned a shit eating grin.

"So, how long you staying Jaggerjaques?" Ron scowled. He really hated this guy. He really did. He wasn't totally sure _why_, but he just really _really_ hated the French man. And Hermione smiling at him. Why the hell was she smiling at him?

Grimmjow's shit eating grin grew so wide, it sent shivers down the regular wizards spines.

"Oh, all year Weasely. All. Year. Long."

Ron screamed in fury, scaring the shit out of a small first year nearby, dropping her scales.

* * *

Ulquiorra walked slowly to the Headmasters office, deep in thought.

"_Hey," Grimmjow turned to him after Hermione dragged the cursing Ron off, "you got my letter about Princess right?" Ulquiorra's head snapped towards him. "What?" He asked rigidly. "About Orihime?"_

"_...The one letter you ignore. Man, you're an idiot."_

Orihime had passed already. But...She should still be alive, right? Or was his sense of time really that skewed from his transfer through the cycle? Ulquiorra wasn't sure, but knowing where Orihime was, and that she was NOT with Kurosaki romantically, lifted a great weight off his heart. He was relieved. She was _his_, after all.

Murciélago pointed out that was NOT true in any way shape or form.

Ulquiorra told her to shut up.

He ascended the stairs, thinking how to play his cards in his game with Dumbledore. He hadn't received the memory; Ron's poisoning, Grimmjow's appearance, and the Malfoy deal (and the vexing fact that no one believed him) distracting him. That, and personally, he didn't really care that much. Dumbledore could easily get the memory himself (getting Slughorn drunk wouldn't be that hard). He was just using Ulquiorra for his dirty work, a fact that Ulquiorra did NOT like.

* * *

Ah, the typical Dumbledore guilt speech, complimented with a soul piercing stare.

...Meh.

_**Figures. I'm going to take a nap. Maybe bother Voldequiorra.**_

* * *

As Dumbledore stared into Ulquiorra's soul for guilt and remorse, he was shocked. He saw nothing. Uncaring dull emerald eyes stared back at him. They offered no apology, no sorrow. Just dismissive scorn and apathy. _Get on with it,_ they whispered. _Stop wasting my time, you old fool. _What happened to that expressive child whose feelings he could play like a violin? Whose actions he could control with a stare and a few kind words? Of course, Dumbledore didn't _like_ twisting Harry like that, and tried to as little as possible, but it occasionally had to be done. For the Greater Good. Of course, Harry wasn't a emotional child and never had been, but now it seemed to be impossible. Harry just _didn't care._ Harry's eyes belittled, scorned, hated.

They condemned.

And Dumbledore was worried that...was it possible?

_Such lack of emotion...do they lack love as well? Like Tom..._

At that moment, to Dumbledore, the only difference between the two powerful wizard's eyes was the color.

* * *

_So, Voldemort ended up at Borgin and Burkes huh?_

_**Appears so.**_

**Hey, that was an okay job!**

…

…

_You are not allowed to talk. Get out of this conversation._

**SCREW-ACK! OH GOD- THE _PAIN_!**

_**DON'T INTERRUPT ME AND THE MASTER, YOU SNAKE LIKE FRAGMENT OF A FREAK!**_

* * *

So, after being denied that position of being a teacher, Voldemort went to Borgin and Burkes, blah blah blah. Now Ulquiorra was in the memory of a insanely old house elf, tending to a insanely hideous woman wearing too much makeup.

"How do I look?" said Hepzibah Smith, turning her head to admire the various angles of her face in the mirror.

"Lovely, madam," squeaked Hokey the house elf. Ulquiorra and Murciélago blanched. _**She's lying right? Please say she's lying.**_

_Lying to please __**does **__seem like the description of a house elf._

_**Thank GOD.**_

A doorbell rang in the distance, and Hokey immediately navigated her way through the cluttered room. It was filled with bookshelves, and boxes, and polished globes of useless antiques. Beautiful, historical, interesting antiques, but still, essentially and practically, a bunch of useless crap.

Voldemort entered and Murciélago gaped. _**He looks...kinda like you.**_

_He does, doesn't he? _

_**...Disturbing. **_

_Indeed._

The future Dark wizard and the old lady exchanged pleasantries, in which Voldemort obviously buttered her up and she lapped up his compliments and gifts like a eager puppy. She cooed over him, and he smiled automatically. She simpered.

"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armor," said Voldemort. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair —"

"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah. _...Of course __that's what he's there for._

_**Why else would suffer through all this crap? Geez. Women, huh?**_

…

_...**That...didn't come out right.**_

_...Sure._

"I am ordered here because of them," said Voldemort quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire —"

"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving a little and pudgy hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort softly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle. Ulquiorra smirked as Murciélago dramatically mimicked puking.

"I had Hokey bring it out for me . . . Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure. ... In fact, bring both, while you're at it. ..."

"Here, madam," squeaked the house-elf, and Ulquiorra saw two leather boxes, one on top of the other, moving across the room as if floating in the air, but in reality they rested on the old head of the House Elf.

"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Tom. . . . Oh, if my family knew I was showing you. . . . They can't wait to get their hands on this!"

She opened the lid. Ulquiorra edged forward a little to get a better view and saw what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles. _**Quaint. **_

"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!" whispered Hepzibah, and Voldemort stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. Ulquiorra saw a red gleam in his dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort's handsome face. _**Lady, you're so much older than him. No way in hell. Even if he wasn't a snakeshit crazy bastard.**_

_...'Snakeshit'?_

_**Well, I can't say BATshit. That's just insulting myself. Or something like that.**_

"A badger," murmured Voldemort, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was . . . ?"

"Helga Hufflepuff 's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow cheek. Ulquiorra sympathized. Poor son of a bitch. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here. . . ."

She hooked the cup back off Voldemort's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Voldemort's face as the cup was taken away.

"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are — take that away now, Hokey."

The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap.

"I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see. . . . Of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone. ..."

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy and horribly familiar golden locket.

The golden locket that could not be opened.

The golden locket that Ulquiorra sensed familiar (and not in the good way) darkness and evil from.

The golden locket that Ulquiorra stole from Sirius's house and stored carefully in a wooden box, sealed with enchantments beyond his years, in his trunk in the Gyriffindor Dorm.

Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.

"Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.

"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value —"

There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort's eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and his knuckles whitened on the locket's chain. _**Geez,**__**dude. Chillax man.**_

_Is that even a word?_

_**Probably not, but shush! We're missing stuff.**_

"— I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are. . . . Pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe. . . ."

She reached out to take the locket back. For a moment, Ulquiorra thought Voldemort was not going to let go of it, but then it had slid through his fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion.

* * *

Slytherin's locket.

Coveted by Voldemort. Stolen away. Hidden. Horded. Protected.

So, why the _hell _was it in _Sirius's _house?

* * *

Voldemort killed the foolish woman, and ran off with her beloved treasures, vanishing without a trace. And only after two days. How impatient, but that didn't matter. Not after he so cleverly covered his crime. _What a curious soul you are, Lord Voldemort. _

_**Curious indeed.**_

* * *

"I have returned," Voldemort said, years later in a more recent memory, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected . . . but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard." Ulquiorra stared at the past Voldemort. Blurred and waxy, his features were no longer handsome and crisp. Bloody eyes, a high cold voice; Voldemort's prelude. Weird.

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of a goblet for a while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately.

"Certainly," said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red, as they were prone to when infuriated or angry. Such lack of control. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed —"

"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain . . . forgive me . . . woefully ignorant."

For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage. Honestly, once upon a time, Ulquiorra would have similar jeering thoughts on Dumbledore's subject of love. If Ulquiorra had not fallen to the phenomenon of love, he would smirk and leer alongside Voldemort himself. Then ditch the bastard, because _hell_ would he serve that guy, no matter the circumstance.

"The old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," suggested Dumbledore. _**Or maybe he has no **__**where to look. I mean, LOOK at the guy. That ain't all that nice to look at, you know.**_

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" said Voldemort. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves — or so rumor has it — the Death Eaters?"

It was obvious to Ulquiorra that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know this name; he saw Voldemort's eyes flash red again and the slitlike nostrils flare.

"My friends," he said, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure." _Friends my ass._

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken," said Voldemort.

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Muldber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

It was like a classical American Wild West Showdown. Voldemort on one side, Dumbledore on the other, metaphorically fingering their hypothetical guns as they glared each other down. Dun Dun Dun, one might say in the situation.

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore lightly (Ulquiorra face palmed (subtly)). "Now, Tom . . ."

Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic (and annoying) gesture. It seemed that Dumbledore (once again) was going for the fatherly 'I'm disappointed in you son, but I will forgive you if you conform to my views and obey. Now do it, fool!'

Unsurprisingly, Murciélago was the one to think of that comparison first. At least the "Now do it, fool!" part.

"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, blahblahblah..."

The rest of the conversation wasn't all that interesting to Ulquiorra, really. After a few more biting sentences and some exaggerated remorse on Dumbledore's part, the memory ended.

Ulquiorra asked why, once they were back in the office, Voldemort came back. Dumbledore of course, was mysterious and "Oh my _Aizen_, I swear I will punch in the fucking _**FACE" **_vague.

On one interesting note, it turned out that the Defense Against the Dark Arts job actually _was _cursed. Who woulda thought?

* * *

Ulquiorra read a book of dark curses and their effects. Something was sapping at Dumbledore's life, as indicated by the dark aura at his hand and was rapidly spreading. He wanted to find out what it was and how long Dumbledore would last. He buried himself deeper into the book, ignoring Ron and Hermione discussing Ron's obvious spelling errors on his essay. Grimmjow yawned. "I'm bored." He complained. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Good for you." He drawled. "Have a hypothetical cookie." The cat like wizard scowled. "Shaddup. Can't we do _something?_" Ulquiorra snorted, then paused. He raised his head from his book.

"Actually...there _is_ something I need to do."

Grimmjow lifted an eyebrow. "Why, I'm intrigued batboy. What's up?"

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow headed out of the castle to the grounds, Ulquiorra under his cloak while Grimmjow cast one of his infamous Disillusionment charms. The grass crunched under their feet as they made their way to Hogwarts most dangerous tree. They stopped a good distance away from the Whomping Williow and it's branches of death.

"You people actually have a _tree_ that kills people?"

"Kills, maims, keeps students from a underground passage to prevent mauling from werewolves. Usual stuff."

"...Your school is _weird._"

"Indeed. I need some sort of stick or something...ah, there's one. Wingardium Leviosa."

* * *

Dark. Dusty. Looked like some psycho murdered came in with a chainsaw and trashed the place; the Shrieking Shack had not changed in the slightest. Grimmjow sneezed. "This place sucks Ulquiorra."

"It's not bad."

"You're just saying that because you're nocturnal or whatever."

"You are too."

"...Fuck you."

"Pass." Ulquiorra pulled out a heavy object out of his pocket and showed it to Grimmjow. "I want to investigate this." Grimmjow stared. "...You mean you want to investigate what appears to be some type of rock inside one of your socks?" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes and grasped the object by the thick heavy chain and pulled out Slytherin's gold locket. It glinted in the dying sunlight that creeped in through the broken windows. "This, moron." Grimmjow frowned at it. "That thing smells evil. That's a _lot_ of dark reiatsu. Kinda like Aizen except less...clean." Ulquiorra nodded and proceeded to explain his 'lessons' with Professor Dumbledore.

"...so when this locket showed up in the memory, I knew it had to be investigated more thoroughly." Ulquiorra concluded. Grimmjow nodded. "Sure. But why are we in a creepy-as-a-La-Noches-hallway shack?"

"It's a dark artifact Grimmjow. Do you think investigating it in the castle full of adolescents would be the smartest idea?"

"Touché"

"Right. Zanpaktous out." They drew their respective Zanpaktous and stood back. "Be cautious. I don't know what will happen when I open it." Ulquiorra warned and Grimmjow shrugged. _Open_, Ulquiorra hissed in parseltongue and the gold locket clicked open slowly, and open fully so that both panel lay on the rickety table that Ulquiorra had set it on. There was a pause. Ulquiorra and Grimmjow glanced at each other. "Uh..."

Dark energy suddenly exploded outwards and swirled into a great large Voldemort faced vortex of doom. It hissed at them and whispered. "Ulquiorra Schiffer, I have seen you heart-"

"That's ironic."

"Shut _up_ Grimmjow."

"-and it is _mine._" The vortex of doom finished, looking a little irritated. Ulquiorra could relate.

The 'VOD' did some dramatic twisting, and split into two forms. One was a cocky short haired teen, whose bright orange locks sent pure irritation through Ulquiorra's soul. The other was a lovely teenage girl with big bright gray hazel eyes in a complex white gown covering her curvy form.

Kurosaki Ichigo and Inoue Orihime.

Together.

Holding hands. Together. Looking at each other, love clear in their eyes, blushes on their cheeks and mouths blooming with adoring smiles. Together.

"Phft. Laaaaaaaaammmmmmeeeee."

"Shut _**up**_ Grimmjow."

* * *

What happened next could be seen coming; the fake Kurosaki and Inoue taunted Ulquiorra and made out a little bit, Ulquiorra freaked out (silently and stoically), Grimmjow got bored, and then Grimmjow killed the horcrux with Pantera (which was able to destroy it because it was a Shinigami Zanpaktou now (reincarnation really _was_ a bitch) and Shinigami Zanpaktou's are all about 'cleansing the soul' and shit).

Of course, to get to the locket, Grimmjow had to get past the fake Kurosaki and Inoue. Which he did in a way the VOD did not see coming.

He calmly walked up to them, said "Move it, bitches," bitch slapped them both simultaneously, brushed past them and stabbed the evil jewelry nonchalantly.

"Phft. Like I said. Lame."

"..."

* * *

"Yo!"

"HOLY SHIT!"

"Hello Murciélago."

"THAT'S YOUR ZANPAKTOU? !"

"Yes."

"...Do you have a big breast fetish?"

"!"

"My breasts are big? Awesome!"

"...So...report?"

"Oh, right."

"Please stop trying to check out your breasts and tell me the report Murciélago."

"Hmph. Fine. Malfoy's been chilling in the Room of Requirement."

"...The what?"

"Dammit Grimmjow..."

* * *

Ulquiorra was thinking. How would he get into the room Malfoy was getting into? Hermione kept berating him about Slughorn, but he had that down. He just didn't give a shit, nor did the opportunity present itself yet so why bother?

* * *

They stared at the wall. The blank slab of concrete stared back.

"…We could blow-"

"We're not blowing up the Room of Requirement you moron."

"Just saying. Asshole."

* * *

"Forget about Malfoy." Hermione told Ulquiorra exasperatedly as she, Ron, Ulquiorra, and Grimmjow lounged in a sunny spot in the courtyard. Ron and Hermione were about to take their Apparation tests and were a bit on edge. Ulquiorra and Grimmjow shared glances of irritation. Hermione was likable sure, but she was arrogant, always thinking her opinions were correct. Hermione didn't understand the life outside Hogwarts or war, not to mention how the Order coddled them, so the idea of Malfoy being involved in the war was ludicrous to her. It was _really _annoying.

And Ron was too easily swayed by opinions, as well as hot headed and jealous. He didn't think about his own opinions, he just voiced others.

Ulquiorra learned not to fight it when his human companions were being ignorant fools, but Grimmjow began a heated debate about why Hermione was being stupid and Malfoy could _so _be a Death Eater.

"He's too young-"

"Oh yeah, because Voldemort has a _age requirement_-"

"He's not experienced enough to be useful-"

"Doesn't mean he can't be used as a pawn. Or distraction. Or amusement. Maybe revenge or punishment-"

"Please, Voldemort is trying to take over the magical world! He doesn't have time-"

"Wow, you know _nothing_ about madmen and war do you?"

"Excuse me, Harry Potter? I was supposed to give you this."

"Thank you." Ulquiorra unfurled the letter with Grimmjow abandoning the argument with a roll of his eyes and reading over his shoulder.

_Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione,  
Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him and you know how special he was.  
Hermione, I know you'd have liked him.  
It would mean a lot to me if you'd nip down for the burial later this evening.  
I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favorite time of day.  
I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak.  
Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone.  
Hagrid _

"So, Aragog finally died."

"Thank god! That thing was a bloody terror!" Ron groaned, remembering the horrible spider incident of their second year. Hermione frowned at him, not being there during the time as she had been paralyzed. Ulquiorra glanced at Ron out of the corner of his eye. "He was a pleasant conversation. He had an accurate view on humans."

"Uh Harry? He essentially called humans stupid."

"Yes. An accurate view on humans. Congratulations, by the way."

"Eh?"

"He's congratulating you on knowing and being able to use the word "essentially" correctly, you stupid weasel."

"Shut up Jaggerjaques!" Ron scowled, his face turning red with his infamous Weasely blush. Hermione giggled before putting on a straight face. "Regardless, we're not going." Ulquiorra blinked. "Why?"

"We would get into too much trouble if we were caught!"

"We would also get into too much trouble if we went down a forbidden corridor, snuck out after hours, went into the Chamber of Secrets, entered the Shrieking Shack through the Whomping Willow and helped an at the time fugitive escape, participated in the Twiwizard Tournament underage, held a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts club, and went on a recon mission in the Ministry of Magic to ensure a Dark wizard did not get his hands on a prophecy that would change the outcome of the magical world." Ulquiorra pointed out, "And yet I believe that we have done _all_ those things _and_ a bunch of other stupid crap." Grimmjow stared at Ulquiorra.

"_You _broke the rules that many times?"

"Yes."

"Respect."

* * *

"Harry, that's it! Get lucky!" Ron exclaimed as they gathered in the boys dormitory to discuss the Slughorn situation. Grimmjow wasn't there, he was...actually, Ulquiorra didn't know where he was. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

_-Meanwhile-_

"Seriously, _what_ did you do to your hair?"

"I'm _busy_! I don't have time to cut it!"

"You look fucking ridiculous."

"No. I don't look ridiculous. Aizen looked ridiculous."

"...He seemed pretty normal to me."

"Shut up Shiba."

"Why?"

"'Cuz I'm still pissed."

"I figured from the sucker punch to the face. Bastard."

"_Anyway, _you'd think, but right before he was imprisoned he looked like a giant Hollow butterfly thing."

"...wait, imprisoned?"

"...Yeah."

"..._Imprisoned_?"

"...Yes?"

"As in _not_ dead."

"...Yeah."

"..."

"..."

"..."

SMACK!

"OW! WHAT THE HELL, YOU ASS?"

"'WHAT THE HELL' IS RIGHT! WHY DIDN'T FUCKING KILL HIM YOU INCOMPETENT PSEUDOSHINIGAMI?"

"THERE WERE COMPLICATIONS!"

"COMPLICATIONS MY ASS! DAMMIT KUROSAKI, YOU'RE TOTALLY USELESS!"

"SCREW YOU GRIMMJOW!"

"FUNNY, I HAD THOUGHT THAT YOU'D RATHER SCREW THAT KUCHIKI CHICK!"

"**DON'T BRING ME INTO THIS FOOLS!"**

...Yeah, Ulquiorra didn't want to know. That, and Ron's "Get lucky!" suggestion could be viewed in ways that Ulquiorra did not want them viewed, especially by _Grimmjow_.

Ulquiorra frowned. "Felix Felicis? I was saving that..."

"For what?"

"Um..."

"_Woman..." Ulquiorra stood in front of the woman in full Shinigami garb, Murciélago tucked into his sash. Her sweet gray eyes stared up at him wondrously. "Ulquiorra...you're alive." Ulquiorra's lips turned up slightly. "Yes...I have missed you...Orihime." Her breath caught. He held out his pale hand. "Are you afraid, woman?" She reached out her own peach colored hand, her soft palm fitting perfectly in his own calloused one. "No. I'm not afraid, Ulquiorra." She leaned in close, their lips were gravitating towards each other slowly. "I see..." Their mouths met in a soft gentle kiss._

"_Orihime..."_

"...You know," Ulquiorra coughed. "...stuff."

"..."

* * *

Ulquiorra watched as Slughorn and Hagrid sang drunken songs and exchanged tales which eventually shifted to Voldemort and parents. Ulquiorra's parents. Perfect. Now all he had to was scam Slughorn, which wouldn't be hard as Slughorn adored his mother as as student.

Ulquiorra smirked when Slughorn passed out after giving him the memory.

_**Ah alcohol. You shall never fail us.**_

_Alcohol has failed us before._

_**You mean that thing with Orihime? Like you didn't like it.**_

_...No comment._

* * *

_Now that I have the memory, I could do one of two things, _Ulquiorra thought, walking back to through the castle under his invisibility cloak (Felix had worn off), examining the memory.

_I could either, A: Go straight to Dumbledore._

_**Or we could do plan B. **_

_Plan B?_

_**Not give a shit until morning.**_

_...Plan B, huh? I like Plan B. Plan B sounds nice..._

* * *

"Hello Harry. What is it you need at this hour?"

...

Damn conscience.

* * *

…

…

...So, all Dumbledore needed from the memory was to confirm something he already knew that was already _extremely __**fucking obvious?**_

Ulquiorra hated that man right now.

He hated that man a lot.

* * *

Well, at least Ulquiorra already brought the locket down. That's one point for him.

* * *

"So, something of Gryffidee's-"

"Gryffindor."

"-Ravenclaw's, a diary, a ring, that locket, a fancy cup thing, and a snake?"

"Yes."

"...Man, this Voldemort guy is such a _loser-"_

* * *

Somewhere, Voldemort sneezed.

* * *

"-I mean, at this point, his afterlife is fucked so clinging to life is his best bet, but still. What a pussy."

* * *

"So, we're going to destroy these Horcrux things now?"

"Soon, when the time is right."

"When's that?"

"When Dumbledore kicks the bucket. Which will be soon. He has been touched by dark magic."

"Hn."

"Also, after the memory, he gave this big speech about how I will to kill Voldemort not out of duty, but of desire and vengeance."

"...That doesn't sound very "Order of the Light" or whatever pansy name you people call yourselves."

"It wasn't. He then tried to pass it off as how that would stem from 'love'."

"..."

* * *

Voldequiorra stared at his strange mindmate. God, he hated her. Hell, he hated his original soul (Voldemort) with a fiery passion simply because that son of a bitch stuck him with this freak. I mean, fragment #3 got a tiara, fragment #6 got to live in a fucking _snake_ but did he get to reside in something cool? No. He got stuck with the weird dead-but-alive kid with the bat spirit sword thing in his head.

Anyway, Voldequiorra stared at Murciélago (not that he could pronounce her name correctly) as she did some type of jig dance in the cave that they were stuck in all the time.

He _would_ admit the cave was nice. At least he got a physical body and a cave.

"What are you doing?" Voldequiorra asked with some hesitance. He was the almighty Dark Lord and everything, but this bat lady was something not to be trifled with.

He pitied his original soul. That guy was screwed, and while he hated to admit that this kid would probably kill all his fragment (brothers? Fathers? Amigos?) companions, end their existence, and that they would go down in history as "Voldemort: The extremely powerful Dark Wizard who got his ass killed by a 16/17 year old brat", at least he had had 15 years to get used to it and would go down with _some_ dignity.

(You should have heard Fragment #2 (The Diary) when Potter killed him. Those screams weren't from pain. Nah, they were from extreme anger that he was eliminated by a fucking twelve year old that knew essentially no useful magic whatsoever.)

"Victory dancing." BatLady said cheerfully, for once not trying to kill his ass for talking to her.

"...Why?"

"Because Weasely and Brown finally split!"

"...So?"

"So? No more obnoxious make out sessions we have to suffer through! No more splitting time between Ron and Hermione! No more Brown being super clingy and asking the Master whether he thinks her and Ron's relationship is 'serious'!"

...Sometimes, Voldequiorra felt death wouldn't come fast enough.

* * *

"No," said Katie, shaking her head ruefully. "Everyone's been asking me, but I haven't got a clue. The last thing I remember was walking into the ladies' in the Three Broomsticks."

Ulquiorra mentally sighed as Hermione continued the questioning of the recently returned Katie Bell. Damn, completely useless. Still, at least she was back and he could kick Dean off the team. While he and Ginny were still together (How was beyond him), they were on the rocks and yelling at each other constantly. It was good for Ulquiorra, because it killed that distracting similarity to his woman. While Orihime had a backbone, it hardly truly showed itself unless needed, and not for petty arguments. Now he could be at peace and view Ginny as Ron's annoying little sister again. However, it was extremely distracting and unproductive for the team.

"Listen, I'd better go, I wouldn't put it past McGonagall to give me lines even if it is my first day back. … Oh, hello." Wait, what-

"Hey. Leroy Jaggerjaques. _H__eureux de (__Pleased to)-"_

"Dammit, Jaggerjaques, let her go to class."

* * *

Ulquiorra stared as the ashen faced Malfoy boy sobbed into a sink with Myrtle cooing to him comfortingly. Ugh. That was a disturbing pairing. Wizards and their pluses shouldn't mix like that.

_**Neither should heartless Espada and bubbly female humans.**_

_Shut up. That's different._

_**How?**_

_...I'm...human now?_

_**...Yeah, okay.**_

_Really? I would say awesome, but that would be un-_

**WATCH OUT MORON!**

Ulquiorra blinked back into reality as Voldequiorra's high cold (and pissed) voice screamed in his head and ducked under the furious curse that Malfoy sent his way. Dusty glass shattered and somehow shimmered in the watery light seeping through the window as Ulquiorra dove out of the way and sent Levicorpus towards Malfoy. Malfoy blocked it with a hasty shield and sent another hex back at the Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Was-Dead.

* * *

"Why did you save the Master?"

"Why else?"

"Because our humanity has rubbed off on you and inspired you to change sides and come to the lukewarm Light?"

"What-**No!** That's so cliché it's sad! And what do you mean 'lukewarm Light'?"

"C'mon, dude. You know us. Are we really pure "Light" material?"

"...Not in the slightest."

"Exactly. So why'd you save the Master?"

"Simple. He dies, I die. The end."

"...That's cold."

"Deal with it bitch."

* * *

Now, there are two ways this could end.

One: Ulquiorra could be a total dumbass and try a curse found in the Half Blood Prince's book on Malfoy when he had _no_ idea what it did (Once again, in another universe, Harry James Potter sneezed).

Two: Ulquiorra could _not_ do that, and simply detain Malfoy.

...**In my valid and reasonable opinion-**

_**You had your moment of usefulness. Go sit in the corner.**_

**But-!**

_**Corner. NOW.**_

**...Stupid bitch, why I oughta...**

_...So, option 2?_

_**Option 2.**_

"Reducto!" Ulquiorra commanded, pointing to the sink behind Malfoy. Malfoy, as expected, jerked out of line of fire and the sink behind him exploded and began to spew water everywhere.

"What the hell Potter! Is your aim that bad?" Malfoy jeered, though the bite was lacking thanks to his drenched clothes and hair. He looked a bit like some type of drowned creature. Sad and wet.

"Glacius!*" Ulquiorra smirked, sweeping his wand gracefully at Malfoy's clothes and the water pooling at his feet. It immediately froze under the charm's biting cold blast of air. Malfoy gaped at his feet and struggled to move them or at the very least move his wand arm. He couldn't, as his entire body was frozen in place with ice. Ulquiorra strode over and smartly plucked Malfoy's wand out of his frozen fingers. "Thank you." He said sarcastically and set the wand down on a undamaged sink. He turned sharply and faced Malfoy with a expressionless face, hands in his pockets. "You will answer my questions, Malfoy." Malfoy gulped.

"What. Is. Voldemort. Planning?"

* * *

Malfoy was being one stubborn bastard. It was rather curious, as he wasn't known for being brave or stubborn (in the face of danger) at all. Ulquiorra deducted it wasn't just Malfoy at stake.

"I know you are behind the necklace and poison attack...but what is the connection." Ulquiorra mused in front of the pissed and terrified Malfoy boy, crystals of ice weighing his hair down and drying on his skin painfully. "Necklace motive is completely unknown, as that attempt failed so epically. Slughorn's poisoned mead affected Ron only, but I was drinking as well...However, Slughorn was going to give the beverage to Dumbledore..." Ulquiorra sighed. Most likely it was a kill Dumbledore plot. Dumbledore was a great obstacle and enemy of Voldemort's, second only to Ulquiorra himself. Ulquiorra sighed and flicked his wand, breaking the icy prison of Malfoy's and walked away as Malfoy, shivering, struggled sluggishly from his frigid hold.

"Just so you know," Ulquiorra called over his shoulder casually, "Dumbledore's dying." Malfoy's jaw dropped behind him, his purple tinted lips in a perfect O shape.

"Just a head's up."

* * *

Ulquiorra swerved through the Quidditch players as they zoomed past him on the field, sharp eyes (with an acknowledged unfair advantage) scanning the field for the Snitch. He had spotted it six times already, but they needed another 10 points to beat Ravenclaw by 300, the requirement to take the Championship. Currently, Ravenclaw was at 140 while Ulquiorra's team had taken the lead with 290. And while it may be a wizard's child game, it was ridiculously entertaining (if there was something to bring from the Wizarding World (excluding wand and invisibility cloak) into death it would be his broomstick) as well as the fact that Ulquiorra Schiffer did _not_ go half ass when it came to competition.

And my _Aizen_. Just picturing Ravenclaw _school children_ beating him in the match was revolting. And Grimmjow would never let him live it down, the bastard. Speaking of the bastard-

"Oi dumbass! Get back into the game, you batfreak!"

"_Excuse me?"_

"...I was talking to Potter. Take a chill pill...?"

"Snape. Serverus Snape."

"Yeah, you. Fucking relax."

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes and easily dodged a bludger heading towards his head. He saw Cho eying him with weariness and bitterness. Ulquiorra scoffed, diving down in a feint and leading Cho in a wild goose chase around the pitch. It had been a year. Honestly.

Ulquiorra's face contorted into a wince as Katie was clobbered with a bludger, and the Quaffle was dropped from her arms. Luckily, Ginny had been following and swooped down and caught it. Preforming a quick fake out towards the left hoop, she slammed it through the center goal post. Red and gold roared happily as Gryffindor supporters (Gryffindor and some Hufflepuffs) stamped their feet and clapped in victory. 10 points. That's all Ulquiorra needed. It was time to get serious.

Ulquiorra immediately spotted the Snitch and flew upwards and past Cho, zooming in the opposite direction for the Snitch. He dodged a bludger expertly and brought his hand down on the Snitch, feeling the gossamer wings beat against his fist. He soared up where he was clearly visible and raised his arm, letting the shrieks and cheers of Hogwarts wash over him.

He had just won the Quidditch Cup, and he had a feeling it was for the last time.

* * *

"What happened, Professor?"

"You may well ask!' she said shrilly. "I was strolling along, brooding upon certain Dark portents I happen to have glimpsed ..."

"You were trying to get into the Room of Requirement."

"... omens I have been vouchsafed – what? I - well - I didn't know students knew about -"

"Yes, yes. Students don't know, I'm Harry Potter, etcetera, etcetera." Ulquiorra said impatiently. "You screamed. What happened?"

"I - well," said Professor Trelawney, drawing her shawls around her and staring down at him with her creepy bug eyes. "I wished to - ah - deposit certain – um - personal items in the Room ..." And she muttered something about 'nasty accusations'. Ah alcohol. For some reason, adults and teenagers alike seemed to love drowning their sorrows in it. It baffled the former Espada as to why. The stuff was evil.

"But there was somebody already in there." said Professor Trelawney, glaring at the wall.

"Really? I did _**not **_see that coming." Ulquiorra muttered sarcastically. "Who?" he asked, deciding it best to pretend he was unaware of the situation.

"I have no idea," said Professor Trelawney, looking slightly taken aback at the dead uninterest of his voice. "I walked into the Room and I heard a voice, which has never happened before in all my years of hiding - of using the Room, I mean."

"Saying what?"

"I don't know that it was saying anything," said Professor Trelawney. "It was ... whooping."

"...'Whooping'?" Ulquiorra deadpanned. "_**Whooping?**_"

"Yes, they seemed quite gleeful." Trelawney continued, ignoring the fact that Ulquiorra wasn't really listening anymore. As her track of conversation drifted to Firenze, Ulquiorra pondered over the fact that the Death Eaters would likely be invading the castle tonight. He would send Murciélago to Pantera to deliver a warning to Grimmjow.

_Return as fast as possible._

_**Got it!**_

_That means no fooling around._

…

_As in no engaging in any sexual foreplay or activity with Pantera._

_**...Just a little-?**_

_NO._

_**Hmph. No fun, Master. No fun.**_

_Screw Pantera later, and deliver the message alright?_

_**Fine.**_

"... but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!"

"What?" Crap, he totally tuned out the conversation. Why were they talking about Snape? How in the name of Aizen did Snape fit into this conversation?

"Yes, there was a commotion outside the door and it flew open, and there was that rather uncouth barman standing with Snape, who was waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs, although I'm afraid that I myself and blah blah blah. Blah blah, blah blah blah..."

Okay Ulquiorra. Fit the pieces together.

Snape. Interruption. Divination. ...Nope. Still not seeing a connection.

"...Dumbledore seemed much more dis posed to give me a job, and I could not help thinking, Harry, that it was because he appreciated the stark contrast between my own unassuming manners and quiet talent, compared to the pushing, thrusting young man who was prepared to listen at keyholes - Harry, dear?"

Oh.

Oh.

OH.

Holy Mother of Aizen, that Son of a Bitch!

Snape betrayed his parents. Snape delivered the prophecy.

That...actually made a lot of sense, but still! Bastard.

* * *

"You found another Horcrux?"

"Yes, although I'm not sure which one. ...Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore asked concernedly and Ulquiorra's eyebrow twitched. Gee Dumbledore, I don't know. It's not like I just found out that my parents were betrayed by Serverus Snape and my supposedly Light Headmaster _hired_ the guy as a Potions/Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Fine." Ulquiorra said instead. Dumbledore frowned at him worriedly. "Are you sure Harry? It is natural to feel afraid-"

Ulquiorra let out a humorless bark of laughter (was really more of sarcastic "Ha!" than laughter), which shocked him _and _the Professor. Ulquiorra glanced away, clearing his throat and mentally cursing for the huge slip of his mask. "Um. No, Professor. I'm fine."

A enormous awkward silence blossomed between teacher and student, although Dumbledore's teachings were useless to Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra had learned about love and the true power of the heart from the master. Dumbledore's pale and distanced teachings couldn't compare to his woman's.

"...So..."

"Harry, has something happened?" Ulquiorra slid his hands into his pockets and straightened his already straight posture, which is what he did when he was uncomfortable or in a tense situation. He remembered fourth year when he was chosen as a Champion. His back had hurt the next day from straining it so hard to be ramrod straight.

"Nothing of importance." Ulquiorra said awkwardly. It wasn't really that important, really. Ulquiorra was already getting over it. It was a simple shock, something that in itself shocked Ulquiorra. He _really_ should have seen that coming.

"Harry-"

"I have discovered Serverus Snape is responsible for Voldemort hunting down my mother and father. It is unimportant." Ulquiorra said bluntly. It really was. Sure, he was pissed, but they were dead and it was done. No point in blowing a fuse about it.

"Harry, I'm sure it was hard to hear, but rest assured, Serverus _can_ be trusted-"

"Whatever you say Professor." Ulquiorra said dismissively. "The Horcurx, Sir?"

* * *

Ulquiorra hurried back to the Common Room at an easy jog, Murciélago had returned, along with Grimmjow, who matched his jog. "So, what's this about the Malfoy brat?"

"Malfoy will bring the Death Eaters to invade the castle tonight." Ulquiorra replied, not even breathless from simultaneously talking and jogging. "Dumbledore and I are leaving to find another Horcurx; Malfoy will attack tonight." Grimm nodded and then looked excited. "Can I come?" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "No, you moron. Dumbledore doesn't know that you know about Voldemort's horcruxes. Stupid cat." He muttered the last part under his breath, stopping at the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

"Aw, come on-"

"NO. You have to stay here and lead the Defense of the castle."

"Do I have to?"

"Look at it this way; either way you get to fight something and do something dangerous and stupid. Besides, if you don't do it, who will? Ron?"

"Touché"

* * *

"Here. Split it evenly between yourselves and whoever heeds the D.A. summons." Ulquiorra commanded, pushing the vial of lucky potion into Ron's awestruck and giddy hands. Hermione, as expected, protested. "No, Harry! You should take it, you'll need it more-"

"Please. I am more capable than you believe Hermione," Ulquiorra huffed impatiently, brushing past her with his Invisibility cloak, "and I have Dumbledore." Not much reassurance for him, but it was sate her easily. Before leaving the Common Room, he turned to the both of them. "Malfoy and the Death Eaters will most likely attack tonight," he held up a commanding hand to silence their silly doubts, "you are Hogwarts defense for this evening. Take the potion to prevent the likely hood of your deaths or grave injuries. Gri- _Leroy_ will lead you." Ron looked affronted, while Hermione was simply terrified at Ulquiorra's authoritative charge. She had never seen him like this, and in this situation it scared her.

"Why the bloody hell is that _foreinger_ going to be in charge?"

"Because he is experienced, strong, and could kick your ass seven ways to Sunday without trying." Ulquiorra said curtly, turning away from Ron's insulted blushing face. "Good luck, and try not to die."

* * *

"You can Apparate now, correct?"

"Yes." Ulquoirra answered quietly, not wanting anyone to hear his presence. "But I do not have a license, nor do I know where we are going."

"I can assist you again," Dumbledore said cheerfully, not getting the hint to tell Ulquiorra where they were going. "take my arm, Harry." Ulquiorra sighed, placed his arm on Dumbledore's, and felt that disgusting sensation of Apparation. As he inhaled salty cold air, all he could think was that he preferred Sonido. Or Shunpo, now.

* * *

"I can see why those Muggle children were terrorized," Ulquiorra remarked after hearing that the location they were currently at was a place Voldemort went to as a child and traumatized two other Muggle kids "It's rather...formidable looking." Dumbledore nodded distantly and let out a gentle "Ah!" as his wand's light illuminated a fissure in the imposing cliff. "Do you mind getting a little wet Harry?"

Yes. Ulquiorra minded. He didn't like water all that much, being formerly part _bat_ and everything. His face scrunched up lightly with distaste. "I would prefer not to, in all honesty sir. But if I must." Dumbledore beamed (the bastard). "Excellent Harry! Then we shall indulge in a nighttime dip." And with that, Dumbledore dove neatly into the water, heading for the fissure. As Ulquiorra slipped off his invisibility cloak and followed him, he silently complimented Dumbledore's breaststroke. It was perfect.

His school robes were really unideal for this situation. Perhaps Dumbledore could've mentioned they might be swimming? Ulquiorra scowled in the ocean, his scowl deepening as he rose out of the water and pulled seaweed out of his hair. As Dumbledore murmured quietly to himself, confirming that this was a horcrux location, Ulquiorra did a quick spell, leaving his robes dry and warm. He glanced around, noting he was in a large spacious cave. It didn't compare to the elegance and mystique of his inner world in the slightest.

Dumbledore approached the wall of the cave and brushed it with his black dead fingers, murmuring an ancient language. Twice Dumbledore walked right around the cave, touching as much of the rough rock as he could, occasionally pausing, running his fingers backward and for ward over a particular spot, until finally he stopped, his hand pressed flat against the wall. "Here," he said. "We go on through here. The entrance is con cealed." Dumbledore stepped back from the cave wall and pointed his wand at the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack. Ulquiorra knew the door wouldn't open. It would be too easy.

"Too easy." He said, a millisecond before the light faded away, the entrance still closed. "In order to penetrate this place, we must think like Voldemort. What would Voldemort do? What would he want an intruder to sacrifice to enter this place?" Dumbledore glanced at Ulquiorra, disturbed at how easily he fell into a darker mindset. He paused, thinking about Ulquiorra's advice. Dumbledore said quietly, "Oh, surely not. So crude."

"Hm?" Ulquiorra mused. "What is the sacrifice?"

"I prefer to think of it as payment, my boy." Dumbledore said lightly, withdrawing a silver dagger, much to Ulquiorra's incredulity. Not at what he was doing, but as to _why_ he would intentionally bring it when he was _magic_. "Blood, if I am not much mistaken."

"Human blood? Or just blood?" Ulquiorra asked curiously. "If it's just blood, we could catch and kill some type of creature that lives about."

"Sadly, I think this requires a more personal touch." Dumbledore said, raising the dagger.

"I see," was all Ulquiorra said as the Headmaster's blood opened the door. "What a shame."

* * *

"There are bodies under there." Ulquiorra remarked from his uncomfortable crouched position in the tiny boat. "How gruesome." Dumbledore hummed in agreement. "Nothing to fear at the moment. There is nothing to fear from just a body."

"Yes." Ulquiorra said quietly. "Just a body...bodies cannot come back from death." But that wasn't true. Dumbledore was young, compared to him anyways, and foolish. Bodies, if pushed hard enough, if their soul and will was fiery and strong, could come back. They could come back stronger, deadlier, and monstrous.

"Hear we are!" Dumbledore chirped, climbing out of the boat. "Don't touch the water Harry." 'Harry' rolled his eyes, and was tempted to touch the water just to tick the old man off. It was a island of perfectly smooth rock. Their shoes clicked on the stone as they approached a stone basin on a pedestal that glowed creepily.

_**Like Aizen's hair.**_ Murciélago quipped, and Ulquiorra smirked in amusement. They reached and peered into the basin and saw that the liquid inside was the source of the glowing.

_**Well, that great Master. **_ His Zanpaktou chirped sarcastically.**_ Nothing like drinking a glowing and most likely poisonous beverage right before finals._**

_...Fuck. Forgot about finals. Damn._

* * *

Lupin blinked at the blond teenager with the relaxed slouched posture and strange blue eyes. He had approached him and boldly proclaimed that _he_ was in charge, and to shut up and do what he said. He had then began ordering the Order positions and places to patrol, and handed out strange coins that were used as a message system in case there was trouble. Lupin hated to admit, but the arrogant 18 year old knew what he was doing, and nodded at the confused wizards and witches to do what he said. Lupin strained a smile at the blond as he cooed flirtatiously at Tonks in French, pushing down his territorial wolf instincts when she blushed and sent Remus a longing sad smile and went to her post. Lupin focused on the brat-uh, teen.

"Hello. I'm Remus Lupin." He held out his hand warily and the familiar stranger (wasn't he at Harry's birthday?) took it, grimacing. "Leroy Jaggerjaques." He let go rather quickly, bristling slightly. Lupin was about to comment on what the hell he was doing, when Sirius showed up. "Hey Moony, nice strategy-" He cut off short when he say Jagger-whatever his name was. He glared a glare usually reserved for Snape. The glare was returned with a feral snarling smile. "_You._" Leroy narrowed his eyes, and his smile widened into something dangerous and eager. "Should've known you'd be here, _dog."_

"Kitten."

"Mutt."

"Stray bast-"

"Sirius." Lupin cut off. "You know him?" Sirius sent the teen a scowl. "Unfortunately. I hope for my sanity you didn't join the Order." Leroy leaned back, looking down on the two slightly (he was very tall) and smirking arrogantly. "Consider me an..._honorary_ member. This is where all the fun is at after all." Lupin gaped. "_**Fun?**_" he spluttered "Did you say _fun?_ This is dangerous! People can die! People do die!" The confident, and possibly deranged, young man was already sauntering away, laughing manically. "That's what makes it fun, dog!"

Lupin stared at his (very muscular, he'd admit) retreating back while Sirius scowled at it.

"Fucking cat. I _hate_ that guy."

"Padfoot, who the _hell_ is he? And is he mentally stable?"

"Well Moony, I'm not sure about the bastard's mentality, but I first met him in Harry's fourth year..."

* * *

"So...we have to drink that huh?" Ulquiorra said resignedly. "...That sucks."

"Oh yes." Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere. "It does indeed Harry."

"So, I propose we take turns." Ulquiorra said, conjuring his own goblet easily. "You drink a cup, I drink a cup, and we continue on like that until its gone." Dumbledore stared at the potion thoughtfully for a long time. Ulquiorra coughed pointedly. "I could go first if you like..."

"Undoubtedly," Dumbledore said, finally, "this potion must act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux." Ulquiorra's eyebrow twitched. Was he even listening to him? "It might paralyze me, cause me to forget what I am here for, create so much pain I am dis tracted, or render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?"

"...So the taking turns plan is not going into effect?"

"Do you understand Harry?"

"Yes, Professor. I'm not stupid."

"Then to your good health Harry."

* * *

Ulquiorra wore a blank and vaguely annoyed face as he supported Dumbledore's shoulders. Again, Dumbledore drained the glass; then Ulquiorra was on his feet once more, refilling the goblet robotically as Dumbledore began to scream in more anguish than ever, "I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!"

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual." Ulquiorra muttered, before sighing. He did feel awful for the guy, but he was selfishly grateful it was Dumbledore suffering, not him. Besides, he wasn't sure if Dumbledore could handle the terrors, the demons, or the heartbreak of Ulquiorra Schiffer. "Drink this. You will die if you do" _Just not immediately._ He tipped the still glowing (seriously, did it ever stop glowing?) liquid into the old man's trembling mouth. He drained it. "KILL ME!" He screamed.

"Trust me, sir, I'm _trying_." Ulquiorra said exasperatedly, and forced another gobletfull down his throat. Dumbledore's body gave a shuddering heave after he swallowed the last drop, and he rolled over, face down and still. Ulquiorra paled. "Shit, I didn't actually _mean_ it." He groaned, and rolled the Professor over on his back with one hand, the other now holding both his wand and the cup, to survey the damage. Pale, mouth partially open, glasses not straight and oh _fuck._

"Rennervate." Ulquiorra commanded, pointing his wand at he comatose man. A flash of red light...and nothing. Ah well, worth a shot. "Sir?"

"Water." Dumbledore rasped. "Water."

"Yes. Aguamenti." The cup in his hand filled with water and emptied. Damn. "Time to do something suicidal and stupid." Ulquiorra sighed and filled the goblet to the brim with icy water from the surrounding lake. He splashed it in the Professor's face clumsily, thanks to the dead water soaked hand griping his wrist.

Inferius were rising rapidly, and Ulquiorra felt a pang of pity for them as one dragged him across the smooth stone island. Oh, how Orihime would weep at the sight of them. He pointed his wand and the offending living corpse that gripped his arm rather rudely. "Petrificus Totalus." He said calmly and the poor body let go. He backed away slightly and raised his arm and began moving his arm in a circular motion. Emerald and poisonous yellow flames roared from the wand tip, encircling Ulquiorra and Dumbledore in a protective lasso of fire. The Inferi stumbled and groped their way back to the water, desperately seeking refuge in the cold depths of despair.

Still maintaining the ring of Murciélago like fire, Ulquiorra approached the basin and, to his dismay, saw a golden locket. Too small, too artificial.

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow had already taken and destroyed this Horcrux. This entire journey was completely useless. With a sigh of disappointment, Ulquiorra took the locket anyway, curious as to why there was a fake and moved to Dumbledore. Grasping his forearm, he heaved the Professor up, the two still guarded by fire.

"Are you alright Professor?" Ulquiorra's voice asked, a little louder than normal to be heard over the crackling emerald gold blaze. He guided the both of them firmly to the small boat and helped the most likely dying man into his seat. The boat took off as soon as both were crammed in their seats. Ulquiorra lowered his arm, now only continuing the circular motion in the wrist. It was enough, and they sailed back in a comforting warmth of vibrant color. "Yes," From the faintness and rapid decline of the man's spiritual energy, Ulquiorra deducted his teacher was lying through his teeth. "Yes...The Horcurx!-"

"I have it Sir." Ulquiorra lied, the decoy locket feeling extremely heavy all of a sudden in his pocket. They reached the shore, and Ulquiorra ceased the fire (the Inferi didn't follow) and helped Dumbledore out of the boat. The boat's chain rattled as the tiny vehicle sank beneath the dead water. Ulquiorra subtly used his wand to cut himself and after reassuring Dumbledore that he 'got cut on the rocks', opened the bloodthirsty archway.

"I can Apparate us out, Professor." Dumbledore smiled dully at Ulquiorra. "Do not worry. We will reach Hogwarts shortly."

"I'm not worried. I'm with you, Harry."

* * *

"We are here, Sir." Ulquiorra said softly, supporting the weak Headmaster in the streets of Hogsmeade. Dumbledore sagged against him to Ulquiorra's concern. "Sir! We have to get to the school."

"Serverus...I need Serverus..." Dumbledore gasped. Ulquiorra nodded. "Fine, we will get Serverus. Just wait a moment while I fetch-"

"I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to - but what's wrong with Albus?"

The busty Three Broomsticks barmaid came to a halt, panting, and stared down, wide-eyed, at Dumbledore.

"He's obviously hurt," said Ulquiorra snappishly. "Madam Rosmerta, can he come into the Three Broomsticks while I go up to the school and get help for him?"

"You can't go up there alone! Don't you realize...haven't you seen...?" Ulquiorra felt an calm icy dread lace his veins. "Madam Ros-"

"What has happened?" asked Dumbledore. "Rosmerta, what's wrong?"

"The - the Dark Mark, Albus."

_**...Well, at least Grimmjow must be having fun, huh?**_

* * *

Grimmjow laughed ecstatically as he roundhouse kicked a Death Eater in the face and down a staircase, while shooting a curse at another coming behind him, his joy becoming a great concern to his allies.

"BEST. DAY. EVER~!"

* * *

Ulquiorra landed neatly next to Dumbledore, who sank to his knees, exhausted. Ulquiorra leaned down to his level and asked, "Would you like me to fetch Professor Snape now, sir?"

"Yes...yes, get Serverus...wear your cloak and speak to no one Harry." Ulquiorra nodded and donned his cloak, turning his back to the Professor. Just as he walked a few feet, he felt the Professor's magical energy rise and jerked to the left, feeling a spell brush past his shaggy hair.

"Expelliarmus!"

* * *

Malfoy looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. He gulped and took several deep rattling breaths, glaring at Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at his heart. Then, he said, "I had to mend that broken Vanishing Cabinet that no one's used for years. The one Montague got lost in last year."

"Aaaah."

Dumbledore's sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"That was clever ... there is a pair, I take it?"

'The other's in Borgin and Burkes," said Malfoy, "and they make a kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going on in the shop, as if the Cabinet was traveling between them, but he couldn't make anyone hear him ... in the end he managed to Apparate out, even though he'd never passed his test. He nearly died doing it. Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who realized what it meant - even Borgin didn't know - I was the one who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets if I fixed the broken one."

"Very good,' murmured Dumbledore. "So the Death Eaters were able to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you ... a clever plan, a very clever plan ... and, as you say, right under my nose ..."

"Yeah," said Malfoy who, seemed to draw courage and comfort from Dumbledore's praise. Ulquiorra sighed. Draco Malfoy was just a child in a terrible situation. His heart was too human, unlike his father's. He would be unable to preform this task. "Yeah, it was!"

* * *

"No, you can't," said Malfoy, his wand hand shaking very badly indeed. "Nobody can save me. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice." He let out a shaky laugh, hysterical and scared. "You're dying anyway! It won't make a difference." Dumbledore jolted. "What makes you think I am dying Draco?"

"Look at you!" Malfoy snorted derisively. "Just look!"

"I'm a little ill, Draco. That does not mean-"

"You're dying!" Malfoy whispered shakily. "Dying. He told me so. In the bathroom."

"Who told you Draco? Who told you I was dying?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"I did."

* * *

Ulquiorra removed the cloak and stared at the startled, in Draco's case, terrified, pair. He nodded to Malfoy. "Malfoy. Good evening."

"P-Potter!" Malfoy stammered, glancing between the Dumbledore and the former Espada. "What-?"

"Stop pretending Malfoy." Ulquiorra cut him off. "You don't have what it takes to kill. You're heart is too young...too soft. Cease your actions."

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Malfoy screamed. "YOU DON'T GET IT! HE'LL KILL-"

"Kill you? Kill your family?" Ulquiorra said softly. "Oh, trust me. I know more than you can _possibly_ imagine."

"Harry-" Dumbledore rasped. "Harry...how? How did-?"

"I sensed it coming and avoided it." Ulquiorra answered, in reference to the failure of Dumbledore's stunning. "And I was able to sense you were dying quite early on in the year. No one, not even Snape can save you now. You will die tonight, Professor." Ulquiorra moved to Malfoy and yanked his wand from his grasp easily and shoved him out of the way single handedly, sending Mafloy to the floor. "Move, child." he pointed the wand at Dumbledore, who's eyes were wide at the unexpected turn of events.

"You are a fool, Professor." Ulquiorra said quietly. "A well intentioned one, yes, but nonetheless as fool. You think I don't know that I act as your pawn? For your 'Greater Good'? I know more than you would believe."

"Harry." Dumbledore pleaded. "Harry, what are you doing?"

"Harry Potter is a lie." Ulquiorra said curtly. "Harry Potter is a mask. Harry Potter does not exist. I never was nor will be Harry James Potter. I am something so much greater-so much more complex and powerful than a naïve simple school boy. I am a former demon. A monster who was given a heart by a goddess."

"Harry..." Dumbledore whispered. "Harry, you aren't a killer...You can't be..." Ulquiorra smiled tightly. "Oh Professor." He chuckled darkly. "This soul has killed thousands, _slaughtered_ for selfish need for power and survival. Although," he added thoughtfully, "You are my first kill as a human. I am sorry for that Professor Dumbledore." He raised the wand, green death gathering at the tip.

"Who-Who are you?" Dumbledore asked brokenly, staring into the cold but sorrowful green eyes of the boy he thought he knew like the back of his hand.

"I am the former Cuarto Espada of Aizen Sousuke's army. I am the Great Winged Demon, an unfortunate Shinigami." Ulquiorra said mildly, the green light illuminating his face like the basin illuminated the lake. "I am Ulquiorra Schiffer." He paused.

"Goodbye, Sir. It was a pleasure. Avada Kedavra."

* * *

"I was never here, you understand?" Ulquiorra said almost pleasantly to the shocked Malfoy, who was still seated, watching on the ground. "Here." Ulquiorra pulled Malfoy up easily and handed him back his wand. "Congratulations on completing your mission." Ulquiorra turned his back on Malfoy and Dumbledore's dead body, picked up his invisibility cloak, and prepared to throw it over his shoulders. "Leave the castle as quickly as possible. For all intents and purposes, you killed Albus Dumbledore." He glanced back at the shell shocked teen.

"Goodbye Malfoy. It wasn't all that pleasant knowing you."

* * *

Ulquiorra lingered in the shadows as the Death Eaters congratulated Draco. It was obvious they were shocked that he actually did it (supposedly) and tested his wand to check. The wand proved it was the one, and they slapped his back and cooed at him proudly. Snape swept in, the desperate yells of the Order echoing behind him. His eyes scoured the scene and were shocked to see Malfoy, pale and horrified, standing over the Headmaster's corpse, with cheery Death Eaters surrounding him. Snape, to his credit, shook it off quickly. He grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of his neck. "Time to go." He commanded and dragged the student out the door, the rest following. Ulquiorra removed his cloak and petrified the last Death Eater, sweeping past him and he collapsed on the ground. Uquiorra easily dodged falling rubble and bodies, calmly following Malfoy and Snape. He walked past Ginny, cursing the Death Eater she was fighting as he went.

"Harry-!"

"Not now, girl." Ulquiorra called over his shoulder, not bothering with his mask anymore.

He had a feeling he wouldn't need it.

* * *

"Cheap shot!" Ulquiorra called over to the retreating Death Eaters as they set Hagrid's house on fire. He raised his wand and shot several silent curses, some hit, some didn't. It didn't really matter. He shot a stunner at Snape, and it grazed his head, but didn't connect. "Hm. So my actions _are _affecting me." Ulquiorra murmured, bring his wand free hand to his chest. "Heavy." He parried a hex shot his way from Snape.

"Very heavy."

* * *

"No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Ulquiorra was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, to his shock. This time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred, more hatred than normal at any rate.

"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them - I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so . . . no" Ulquiorra's eyes widened. "_You're_ the Prince?" was all he said as Snape raised his wand. He never attacked however, as Buckbeak attacked Snape in Ulquiorra's stead. Snape backed away and ran from the terrifying Hippogriff as it shrieked and flapped it's wings at Snape's back dangerously. Ulquiorra sighed and let his head hit the grass.

"I did _not_ see that coming."

* * *

_To the Dark Lord_

_I now I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. _

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B. _

Ulquiorra eyes ran dully over the paper as he walked slowly to the castle, knowing the horror Hagrid would face once inside. He would think later.

Right now, he was too human to care.

* * *

"Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though," Ron said. "Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders, Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave him in this state -"

"Ron - Dumbledores dead," said Ginny.

"No!" Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Ulquiorra, who both just entered the Hospital Wing. His eyes shot frantically between the two, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Ulquiorra simply stared at him stone faced, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill's bed, his hands over his face.

"How did he die?" whispered Tonks. "How did it happen?"

"Malfoy killed him," Ulquiorra forced the lie from his throat, his face unchanging.. "I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Mark was. . . . Dumbledore was ill, he was weak, but I think he realized it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak - and then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him -" Hermione's hands shot up to cover her mouth in horror and Grimmjow, with bandages wrapping his arm, gripped her shoulder consolingly.

"Malfoy brought the Death Eaters here of course. It was all part of his plan...The necklace, the mead. All attempts to kill Dumbledore. Third time's the charm, I suppose." Ulquiorra said tiredly. "Snape was assisting him...he helped Malfoy escape."

Grimmjow cocked his head, curiously, disbelieving that Malfoy could pull such a thing off. He caught Ulquiorra's eye. Ulquiorra shook his head slightly, not that anyone noticed, too lost in grief.

* * *

After the group retold what happened on their side, filled in the gaps for themselves about Snape and Malfoy's treachery, and saw a strange romance between Tonks and Lupin blossom, Ulquiorra followed McGonagall to Dumbledore's office.

* * *

"It might be important." McGonagall tried, attempting to discover what Ulquiorra and Dumbledore were doing that night.

"Not important enough for you to know apparently. I cannot tell you. Dumbledore's orders." It felt so odd to still obey Dumbledore's orders after what Ulquiorra did.

* * *

Grimmjow was waiting outside the Headmaster's office. He was leaning casually against the wall and smirked as Ulquiorra approached him. "Yo."

"Grimmjow." They fell into a step.

"So," Grimmjow asked lazily, "What _really_ happened?"

"I killed Dumbledore for Malfoy. Snape was going to do it for him, I suppose, but I beat him too it." Ulquiorra responded. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. "How ya doing?"

"As well as I could be, I suppose. It is moments like this that I wish that humanity was not so emotional."Ulquiorra sighed. This was one of the things he (dare he think it?) liked about Grimmjow. He didn't ask questions, because they shared a mutual understanding, strangely enough. He pulled the locket out of his pocket, and tossed it to Grimmjow, who caught it in his injured hand, wincing a bit.

"What happened?"

"Crazy Death Eater went on a fire shooting spree. Kicked him down a flight of stairs. Fucker didn't die unfortunately." Grimmjow shrugged, examining the necklace and its contents. "Who the hell is R.A.B? And I thought you were going to get a Horcrux."

"It's a fake. It's a decoy of the locket we destroyed."

"That sucks." Grimmjow grunted. "What happens now?"

"Dumbledore's funeral will happen and the students will be sent home. The school might shut down."

"Huh. And what are _you_ going to do?"

"I will find the remaining Horcruxes and destroy them. I will not be returning here next year."

"Weasely and Granger?"

"They will return next year. They don't know it, but they will."

"Well, I won't. Remember, Emospada, _you're_ where all the action is."

* * *

Ulquiorra basked in the company of his human companions. It would be one of the last times to be with them after all. Dumbledore's funeral was rapidly approaching, and the air in the castle was somber, despite the wonderful weather. Ulquiorra chose to see it as a good omen, that they would make it. Murciélago teased him for it.

Days passed and it was time for the memorial service. Dumbledore's funeral was lovely, Ulquiorra supposed. He recognized many of the guests. The merepeople and centaurs made an appearance. Umbridge, Fudge, and Skeeter were there. Ulquiorra took some joy in burning Skeeter's notebook, to her fury.

Ulquiorra stared out at the lake, thinking hard. He and Grimmjow would depart on their quest after his birthday, they had decided. He was jolted from his thoughts at the Minister's reflection in the water. He turned.

"Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy," said Scrimgeour quietly, "I cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very great wizard. We had our disagree ments, as you know, but no one knows better than I -"

"What do you want?" asked Ulquiorra flatly. He was feeling too human at the moment for games.

Scrimgeour looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his expression to one of sorrowful understanding.

"You are, of course, devastated," he said. "I know that you were very close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favourite ever pupil. The bond between the two of you -"

"What do you want?" Ulquiorra repeated annoyed, looking back at the lake.

Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick and stared at Ulquiorra, his expression shrewd now.

"The word is that you were with him when he left the school the night that he died."

"That means little in this world." said Ulquiorra.

"Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the Tower after Dumbledore died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The Ministry can add two and two, Harry."

"How shocking," said Ulquiorra. "Well, where I went with Dumbledore and what we did is my business. It's none of yours."

"Such loyalty is admirable, of course," said Scrimgeour, who seemed to be restraining his irritation with difficulty, "but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He's gone."

"I owe him such loyalty, after our parting. That is all." said Ulquiorra calmly. "You wouldn't understand. But I've got nothing to tell you."

"So," said Scrimgeour, his voice ice cold, "the request I made of you at Christmas -"

"Oh ... the one where I tell the world what a great job you're doing in exchange for-"

"- for raising everyone's morale!" snapped Scrimgeour.

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes and smirked.

"Released Stan Shunpike yet?" he askely slyly.

Scrimgeour turned purple.

"I see you are -"

"Say Dumbledore's man through and through and I will punch you." Ulquiorra slid his hands into his pockets. "I am not his man. I never have been, and I never will." Scrimgeour scowled and limped angrily away, past Hermione and Ron who rushed to Ulquiorra.

"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered.

"Same as Christmas." Ulquiorra replied, gazing up at the castle sadly. He wouldn't be returning...

Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly to Hermione, "Look, let me go back and hit Percy!" Ulquiorra gave the barest hint of a soft chuckle at his childish attempts to cheer her up.

"No," she said firmly, grabbing his arm.

"It'll make me feel better!"

Ulquiorra smiled slightly and Hermione grinned a little, though her smile faded as she looked up at the castle.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back." she said softly. "How can Hogwarts close?"

"Maybe it won't," said Ron. "We're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?"

"'I'm not coming back either way." said Ulquiorra

Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly, "I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?"

"I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, to think of a plan" said Ulquiorra "But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be gone for good."

"'But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"

"Don't know." Ulquiorra said quietly. "Perhaps Godric's Hollow. That's where everything started, right?" For Harry Potter at the very least.

"And then what?' said Ron.

"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes," Ulquiorra sighed "That's what he wanted me to do, what we _need _to do, that's why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right there are still several left. I've got to find them and destroy them and then I've got to go after the last bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him."

There was a pause as they observed the last of the mourners.

"We'll be there, Harry," said Ron.

"Sorry?"

"At your aunt and uncle's house," said Ron. "And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going."

"No." Ulquiorra shot him down instantly. Hermione persisted.

"You said to us once before," said Hermione quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"

"That was a bit different."

"We're with you whatever happens," said Ron. "But, mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."

"Why?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"

Oh yes. The wedding. Grimmjow was going to that wasn't he? Besides, that last moment of peace wouldn't kill him.

"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," he said finally.

* * *

Grimmjow had gone back inside the castle right after the funeral, and Hermione and Ron and Ginny had left around 10 minutes ago. He was the last one left, thanks to the beautiful cliché of "I really just need to be alone right now".

Ulquiorra stared at the dimming sky, the purple twilight creating strangely colored highlights in his ebony hair. Closing his eyes, he could feel the sand beneath his feet, the dead but prominent breeze, and the cold backwards sickled moon glaring at his heavy bone mask and pristine coat. His tailcoats fluttered around his calves, Murciélago at his waist, the welcome intruding scent of spring as the tips of her hair swayed towards his hip...

"Well well. You _are_ here." Ulquiorra's eyes shot open, shock actually painting his features visibly. No. That was impossible.

But it was. There he was. Kurosaki Ichigo, with Shiba Kaien at his side. Dear Aizen, their similarities were preposterous. They _had_ to be related somehow. Kurosaki had grown out his hair, signifying how much time had passed with his death. He wore a long sleeved Captain's _haori_. His sword was a subtly different shape and did it seriously ever stop growing? The strap holding it to his back was thicker and more compacted together. He wore a strange Chinese like collar and two black straps crossing in an X shape over his chest under standard Shinigami robes. Similar bands adorned his wrists as well. He had taken Aizen's old squad. His fist clenched in his pocket around his wand. He preferred Murciélago, but at the moment the stick would do.

"Kurosaki Ichigo." Ulquiorra said, eyes still a little wide. "What are you doing in the human world?" Ichigo shrugged. "Curiosity and work. Investigation with this...uh," Ichigo glanced down at a scroll of paper, which Ulquiorra noted numbly was probably an assignment. "...this 'Voldemort' guy."

"What do you want with Voldemort?" Ulquiorra asked, already knowing the answer, but felt a bit prickly. Killing Voldemort was _his_ destiny or whatever. Ichigo scowled at him. "You already know. Saw you talking to those humans." He smirked. "Ulquiorra Schiffer, friends with _humans_. Who would have thought?"

"Shut up, Kurosaki."

"A bit more of a temper too." Ichigo remarked amused. Kaien laughed sheepishly at Ulquiorra's glare. Ichigo turned serious. "But really, we're investigating this Voldemort guy since your guys won't."

"_Our _guys?"

"The British Shinigami." Ichigo clarified. "Grim Reapers. They won't interfere. It's apparently their policy or code not to interfere with magical prophecies or something." Ulquiorra felt a twinge of embarrassment. "So we're checking it out. Of course, _we_ can't do anything about it either, since it's not occurring in our territory, so we're mostly investigating you."

"Why me?" Ulquiorra asked. "I would assume the man that split his soul into seven pieces would be a higher priority than myself." Ichigo sighed, running a hand through his ridiculous hair. "Hey. Do you know how long ago it was when you died? When the Winter War happened?"

"I assume long ago, judging from your absurd hair style" Ulquiorra said, eying the new Captain's hair with some incredulity. Ichigo shook his head, his head comically swishing, just adding to how absurd it really was.

"It was two years ago." Ulquiorra stared openly. "That's not possible." He said finally. "That is simply impossible. I have lived this life for sixteen years." Ichigo looked sheepish. "I don't know all the details, but when a bunch of the Espada died they reentered the cycle and there were complications because of your power levels and your half Hollow half Shinigami status."

"What kind of complications?"

"...You were thrown back in time. The war ended in 1995. Right now it's 1997."

"...Oh." was Ulquiorra's strangled reply. How the hell was he supposed to respond to _that?_ "Yeah. Kurosutchi had a field day." Kurosaki rolled his eyes. "Anyway, last year I got my powers back-"

"_**Back?**_"

"And we all realized we couldn't live normal lives anymore, so we moved on to Soul Society."

"We?"

"Yoohoo! Shiba-san! Kurosaki-kun!" It was as if the world stopped moving as Ulquiorra slowly turned away from Kurosaki and Shiba and saw Inoue Orihime running towards them, in full Shinigami uniform. Air and time were sudden made of molasses, as everything seemed to slow down as Ulquiorra drank his woman in. Beautiful, he thought a little dreamily. Still so beautiful. Her hair was longer, fuller, and tinged with waves. Her bangs lacked her trademark pins, leaving her full fringe to swish around her face angelically. She too, wore a Shinigami uniform, along with a Healers supply bag slung over her shoulder and across her back. The bag's sash and front storage rested diagonally on her, still _extremely _voluptuous, chest. Her hairpins were clipped neatly to the collar of her shihakushō. Ulquiorra noted the absence of the standard sword at her slender waist.

Her face was scrunched up cutely in a happy greeting smile. Her eyes were closed in that strange but oddly fitting and lovely expression of happiness. She hadn't noticed him yet.

"Hey! I was just talking to Grimmjow, and he said Ulquiorra was around here!" She chirped excitedly and opened her beautiful silvery hazel eyes. Ulquiorra's heart stopped strangely (but oddly pleasant) in his chest when she said his name. "Have you-" She was cut off as she spotted him with Kurosaki and Shiba. Ulquiorra didn't know what he'd say or do, when he took that first nervous step forward towards her. He cleared his throat. "Woman-"

"ULQUIORRA!" He gasped as she slammed into him, her tackle/embrace sending them crashing into the lake. _I wasn't expecting that_, Ulquiorra mused as he pulled her up with him to break air at the surface. They were up to the waists in water, but thoroughly and completely soaked. Her hair stuck to her flushed cheeks and clothes wetly, her petite hands gripping his much larger ones tightly. His hair was also plastered to his (possibly flushed) cheeks and the back of his neck. His drenched school robes went unnoticed as they both clung and hung off his lean frame uncomfortably. "Hello Onna."

Ulquiorra thought his reunion with Orihime wouldn't be in Human World. Nor did he think she would be a _Shinigami_ along with him. He didn't imagine they would meet at his dead teacher's funeral, just before he would depart on a journey to save all of Britain with his former enemy and rival. He didn't think she would smile so happily or beam so brightly at him.

And he certainly didn't even begin to count the possibility of her tackling him into Hogwarts' lake and kissing him right then and there.

It was rather cliché, but in all honesty, they were, oddly enough, a rather cliché couple.

Ulquiorra couldn't picture it any other way.

* * *

**A/N: So that's part two! One more chapter left and it's over! Wow.**

**I chose Acedia because during the Slughorn task, Ulquiorra really doesn't give a shit. Ulquiorra also doesn't give a shit about Ron's relationship, and really puts on his "I don't give a shit" mask to hide his conflicting feelings about Dumbledore and that he killed him.  
**

***Glacius: It's not a spell from the book, but one of the PC games (Prisoner of Azkaban). I own this game, actually, and it's pretty good. The spell, obviously from context, freezes stuff.**

**To all those who liked, your support is awesome and keeps this story alive (considering how much Bleach sucks now). To those who added constructive criticism, thanks! With the power of mystical force (Not Aizen ;) it will help my writing improve and grow.**

**The outfit Ichigo is wearing is his new shikai. 'Cuz Ichigo can't have a _constant_ shikai, God forbid.**

**Horcruxes destroyed: Diary, ring, locket.**

**Horcruxes left: Snake, cup, diadem, Voldiequiorra. Voldiequiorra is accounted for and will be killed at Ulquiorra and Murciélago's conveinence.**

**Review please, and once again, Happy New Year :D (One more year 'till the world ends ;)  
**


	10. Year 7: Greed

**A/N: So. It's been a little over a year, huh? How you all still like me is beyond me after my utter fail in updating.**

**I would like to give a special shout-out to everyone who reviewed and gave me the proper kick in the pants to continue this thing. If it wasn't for you guys, this story would've died a LONG time ago.  
Disclaimer: Eh. You know the disclaimer.  
**

* * *

Hours. Four, to be precise. That was how long it took Ulquiorra to explain his entire life to Kurosaki. It was an experience that he never thought would happen. It was also an experience that he never wanted to happen again.

Especially since the bastard would interrupt him every few minutes to laugh hysterically. Hence, the four hours.

Than, _another_ hour was wasted when Grimmjow showed up and tried to fight Kurosaki in a kamikaze death rematch.

If Orihime hadn't been there, it would have been hell on earth.

However, since she was there, cuddled up next to him, holding his hand and chatting in that wonderfully Orihime-ish way, it wasn't too bad.

Kurosaki sighed. "Man...so much paperwork. I mean, why do I have to be the poor unfortunate bastard to lobby for you people?" Ulquiorra and Grimmjow blinked. "...Huh?" was Grimmjow's adequate response. Kurosaki rolled his eyes. "You guys are British and, dear GOD, _French_ citizens. You're under the jurisdiction of Avalon and _Ciel de France..._or whatever it's called." Kurosaki muttered under his breath after slaughtering the French language, judging by how Ulquiorra and Kaien had to hold the former blue-head from jumping and beating the crap out of the carrot topped Captain. "Uh, anyway, you're supposed to go to your respective regions of the afterlife when you kick the bucket," Kurosaki continued, "but your past life/future life/whatever-the-hell-is-going-on-with-you has such strong ties to the Japanese Soul Society, so it complicates things."

"How complicated?" Ulquiorra asked suspiciously, pulling his woman closer to him.

"It means, that you two are kinda...up for grabs." Kurosaki said awkwardly, scratching his head. "What with being former Espada, and Ulquiorra being the "Boy Who Lived", which is a stupid-ass name by the way-" Ulquiorra managed to glare at him _stoically _somehow, "-and all, you guys are pretty valuable to the undead community. So, all three regions are sorta fighting over where you eventually end up."

A pause.

"...There...isn't a lot I can say to that."

"...Yeah..."

"..."

"..."

"...So...you guys are killing some Dark Wizard or something?"

"...Yes..."

"...

"...Uh, anything happen in Soul Society lately?"

"Had a Quincy invasion that nearly killed us all."

"...Oh."

"...Uh, got some new trees for the compound and stuff."

"...Kurosaki?"

"Yeah?"

"Go home."

_**Year 7: Greed**_

Ulquiorra didn't have much to pack. Nothing he really needed anyway. His Invisibility cloak, his wand, clothes, black nail polish, the (fake) locket, some potion ingredients/remedies, and the Marauder's Map. All could fit neatly into a simple rucksack. Spell books were obsolete, he knew everything in them already. All that was left to pack was the photo album he was leafing through. He smiled lightly, barely a smile at all, but still a smile. His black nails, paint shining from the streetlights outside, stood in stark contrast to his pale skin. Pale for a human, but healthy enough to pass as relatively normal.

His fingers lightly traced the silently laughing wizard photo of Orihime as her image giggled, holding on to his silent picture counterpart. They were standing in front of Hogwarts castle, his woman was happily clinging to his arm, her head tucked snuggly in the crook of his neck. The hand attached to the arm she was wrapped around was in his pocket, the other hand gently holding her own. He didn't glance towards the camera once, too focused on her happy face. Orihime was delighted by the idea of moving photos, and wanted to take as many pictures with him as possible (not that he objected).

Then she tried to make him food, something which he objected to strongly.

As such, he now had an entire album crammed with moving colored pictures of him and his woman, happy, smiling (in her case), walking and wandering around Hogwarts castle. Despite everything going on with his human life, Ulquiorra was happy. It was an unfamiliar concept, although not unpleasant. Ulquiorra reluctantly closed the photo album and placed it carefully within his rucksack in front of his first, and only other, photo book, which was of his parents. Although he had never known them, he still had a deep attachment to the couple. They had given him everything, and in return he loved them like any other orphaned son would. Detached love maybe, but they still had a place in his developing heart.

Hedwig hooted in her cage, flapping her wondrous wings against the bars. She wanted to fly, a desire Ulquiorra understood all too well. He walked amidst the paper littering the ground to her cage and stuck a pale finger through the bars. "Hush," he said quietly as she nipped at his finger, "we will not be here much longer."

* * *

Ulquiorra picked up a old _Daily Prophet_ that lay on the floor next to the giant stack of newspapers. One for each day of summer. Ulquiorra thought that the _Prophet_ was complete bullshit ever since his fifth year at Hogwarts, but at least they documented the deaths fairly well. Skimming over an obituary done by an (obvious) Dumbledore fanboy, he read the article about Rita Skeeter's new biography on the former Headmaster of Hogwarts. The former Espada's eyes narrowed as he remembered that Hermione and Skeeter's 'deal' that Skeeter wouldn't write for a whole year had expired. Fabulous.

Ulquiorra sighed and tossed the paper aside as he read about Dumbledore's dead sister and the supposed dabbling in Dark Arts.

_**Well, he's-er, **_**was****_ manipulative enough for it. _**

_You can't be serious._

_**Hey, you had to at **_**least****_ experiment with evil to be that much a manipulative puppetmaster._**

_...That's a little harsh-_

_**He's been training you since you were **_**11 ****_to fight a Dark Wizard that is essentially unbeatable. Which he knew for the most part. With all odds, that he was aware of, saying you would die. Horribly._**

…

…_So. Dark Magic?_

_**Just saying.**_

* * *

"The house? You think all of this protection, which by the way, I did _not_ ask for, and this security and effort to save your lives is because you think a bunch of wizards want a Muggle house?" Ulquiorra asked flatly. Vernon Dursley, who had been changing his mind on cooperating with the Order of the Phoenix like a tweenage school girl, had (once again) decided to stay at Privet Drive. This time, he thought it was because the security wizards wanted Number 4. "Are you as moronic as your appearance indicates?"

"Don't you take that tone-" Petunia, his (rather homely) wife shrieked before Vernon's large ham hand waved her off. "House prices are skyrocketing around here! You want us out of the way and then you're going to do a bit of hocus-pocus and before we know it the deeds will be in your name and—"

"I hate this house." Ulquiorra said stoically. "Not to mention my godfather has offered residence at his family house _multiple times._ Why the hell would I want this miserable dump?" Okay, the last sentence was just to piss them off, but hygienically the Black family home was looking much better than the last two summers ago.

Then again, once Sirius had been proven innocent and was able to leave the place, he had abandoned the small dingy 'manor' to settle in little London muggle flat. Not to mention Bellatrix Lestrange, a former Black, had deducted that the Order HQ was the Black House from the affection starved Kreacher. The home had once again been completely deserted shortly after last summer, and probably once more resembled the hell hole Ulquiorra saw during the summer preceding his fifth year at Hogwarts. Ulquiorra had no idea where they were meeting now, but Grimmjow (now an official Order member) had said they had been meeting in Order member homes, bouncing from meeting place to meeting place.

"You claim," said Uncle Vernon, starting to pace furiously, "that this Lord Thing—"

"—Voldemort," said Ulquiorra dully, "and we've been through this about a hundred times already. This is _**fact,**_ Dumbledore told you last year, and Kingsley and Arthur Weasley—"

Uncle Vernon stiffened and hunched over, probably remembering the time 3 years ago when Arthur Weasely visited the house; that is, by blowing up the fireplace and sending himself, Ron, Fred, and George sprawling into the living room, completely covered in ash. Or perhaps remembered when the Auror and smiling redhead visited the house earlier that summer to explain the situation to the Dursleys. Not that that went well.

"Once I turn seventeen," Ulquiorra continued, one hand in his pant pocket, the over curled in a fist cushioning his jaw as his elbow leaned on the kitchen table, "the protective magic Mother left me will become useless. Voldemort will be able to attack this place as he pleases, and it is possible he will capture you; either to torture you into telling him where I am, which you won't know, or to get me to come after him and rescue you, _which I won't_." He made sure to glare at them all to establish that if they got capture and tortured from not leaving the damn house, he wouldn't do jack to save them. "You're being offered very desirable protection. People would kill to get their families and loved ones this kind of service." There was a very heavy pause. The land mower that belonged to the neighbors stalled, and the room was filled with Vernon outraged heavy breathing.

"I thought there was a Ministry of Magic?" Vernon said suddenly. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Completely unreliable, corrupt, and most likely infiltrated." Figures that the head of the Dursley house would place the most trust in the government, even when he hated what said government stood for.

* * *

After telling Vernon in all his radish purple faced glory that no, Kingsley was NOT available and convincing Dudley (scaring him with the truth) to accept the damn wizard protection, Ulquiorra was finally free. He sighed, and stood up from the table. "They'll be here in approximately five minutes" and with that, he left the room and went up the stairs into his bedroom. After checking his rucksack, he slid a few nuts into Hedwig's cage, meeting her frustrated glare evenly. "Soon." He said softly, before turning away and picking up the 'soul pager' Orihime had given him off his nightstand. The little bat charm she had insisted he attach to the thing tinkled lightly, resulting in a tiny amused quirk of the lips. He slid the phone into his jean front pocket and slid on a black zip-up hoodie jacket as he heard the doorbell ring. He turned and silently left the room.

Best not to leave the poor wizards with the Dursleys alone. That'd just be cruel.

* * *

"Harry Potter!" squeaked an excited voice the moment Ulquiorra entered the room. A small man in a mauve top hat was sweeping him a deep bow. "An honor, as ever!" Ulquiorra sighed. "Hello Dedalus, a pleasure to see you again. Hello to you as well Hestia," Ulquiorra greeted, dipping his head in response to her cheery wave.

"Good day to you, Harry Potter's relatives!" Dedalus exclaimed brightly, striding into the living room. The Dursleys seemed particularly unhappy at being addressed this way. "Ah, I see you're all packed. Wonderful!" the wizard continued obliviously. "Well, I'm sure Harry has told you, the plan is very simple."

Ulquiorra could see the Dursleys faith, not that there was much to begin with, die, slowly but surely as Dedalus explained the plan and praised Vernon for not being 'utterly bamboozled by all those buttons and knobs' when driving a car.

"You, Harry," Dedalus continued, not hearing the insulting tone of Vernon's mutterings, "will wait here for your guard. There has been a little change in the arrangements—"

"What do you mean?" said Ulquiorra sharply. "I thought Mad-Eye was going to come and take me by Side-Along-Apparition?" Insert shudder of utter repulsion at the thought.

"Can't do it," said Hestia tersely. "Mad-Eye will explain."

_**Splendid. Because THAT means nothing has gone wrong.**_

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the large pink hand utterly baffled. His eyes traveled past the appendage, up the limb attached, and finally focused on the large scarlet face of Dudley Dursley. "Well," Ulquiorra said finally, slipping a pale and rather delicate hand (compared to the other) out of his pocket and into Dudley's to shake formally. "This is ah, different." Ulquiorra tilted his head the slightest in interest. "Did the Dementors change your personality by any chance?" Dudley shrugged. "Dunno. See you, Harry."

"Unlikely. But I suppose so." Ulquiorra said, releasing the hand of his childhood tormentor. He watched as the large man bumbled out of the house and noticed that he was alone with Petunia. He turned to her curiously. She huffed a bit and bit out a strange sounding "Goodbye" and began to march towards the door.

"Goodbye." Ulquiorra murmured, much to his own and her surprise. She stared at him intently, seemingly torn between leaving without another word and saying something. In the end, she jerked her head in some type of acknowledging nod and strode out the door, leaving Ulquiorra quite alone in the house he grew up in.

* * *

"Take a good look Hedwig," Ulquiorra said to the huffy owl, who was ignoring him. "Last time we shall ever be here." Depositing her cage next to his rucksack and Firebolt (which he would possibly need now that the original plot was completely shot), he walked away from the snowy owl, still speaking nostalgically.

"I used to sleep here," He continued, opening the old cupboard's, and his former bedroom's, door. He peered inside, silently observing the umbrellas. "It certainly is cramped. I must have been a rather slight child." He didn't remember it being this small. Then again, he had been pretty malnourished and cupboard sized before he attended Hogwarts and had access to three proper meals per day. He cocked his head, and took out the smallest umbrella. It was one of those pocket umbrellas that when folded up was only about 15 centimeters (approximately 6 inches) long. He looked at it, shrugged, and went over to his bag and slipped the little umbrella inside.

While he could just charm his clothes and person to be waterproof, it would look rather strange to Muggles and he would be trying to keep as much of a low profile as possible.

He was lucky that his new lack of glasses, tamed hair, and tattoos hadn't really been seen by any Death Eaters. Otherwise all hope of 'low profile' would have died painfully and swiftly. Then again...Snape knew what he looked like...

_**Eh. Deal with it when it happens.**_

**Or, you know, I could just tell Volde-**

_**But you won't. 'Cuz I won't let you. Besides, Voldie's been ignoring you anyway.**_

…

_**And you're our bitch. Just saying.**_

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the group assembled in the Dursley kitchen. Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Tonks, Lupin, Arthur and Bill Weasely, Fluer Delacour, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, and Mundungus Fletcher. Ulquiorra was surprised to see such a large group assembled.

"Hello." Ulquiorra said into the baited and giddy silence (on their part. He just felt kind of awkward). "I wasn't expecting _so...many_ of you."

_**It's like you have your own personal (weak) Espada army! ...And Mundungus.**_

"Change of plan," Moody growled, his large magical eye rolling around in its socket crazily as it tried to glance at the sky, street, and Ulquiorra simultaneously. Ulquiorra noted the two large burlap sacks over his shoulder with some wariness.

"Where is Grimmjow and Sirius?" Ulquiorra asked, confused as why the two danger loving wizards didn't come on the probable death mission.

"Uh-"

* * *

_At the Burrow..._

* * *

"GO TO HELL KITTY KAT! _I'M_ GOING ON THE MISSION!"

"SCREW YOU DOG! THAT MISSION IS TOO FUN AND AWESOME SOUNDING FOR ME NOT TO BE ON IT! I'M GOING, AND THAT'S FINAL! YOU GOT THAT YOU STUPID FUCKER?!"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A STUPID FUCKER YOU ARSE?!"

"**I'LL KILL YOU!"**

* * *

"...I see. That does sound like them." Ulquiorra muttered exasperatedly as he led the group deeper into the kitchen. "And they didn't notice you had already left?"

"We just left the two screaming at each other. They'll figure it out eventually." Hermione said uncertainly, as though she wasn't entirely sure the two would stop shrieking like teenage school girls to notice the mission group had left half an hour ago. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "They won't. Trust me." He turned to Kingsley. "Why aren't you with the Prime Minister?"

"He can get along without me for one night," said Kingsley. "You're more important."

_**Hear that Master? We're special~**_

_...Quite._

"By the way Harry," Ron said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small square parcel. "Sirius was going to give you this. When he decided to come, anyway." He handed Ulquiorra the package, which had Sirius's handwriting on the top saying 'Happy Birthday Harry!'. Ulquiorra tore open the package and found a small square mirror no bigger than his hand. "...What is it?"

"That's a two-way-mirror." Lupin said from Tonks's side. "It's part of a set. There are two identical mirrors, and the owners of the mirrors can communicate though them. All you have to to is say Sirius's name to the mirror and he'll be able to talk to you. He and James would use it to talk during detention."

"Hey Harry," Tonk suddenly sang from on top of the washing machine, "Guess what happened over the summer?" she smile impishly while wiggling her left hand in his face, the wedding ring glinting proudly on her ring finger. Ulquiorra's eyes widened. He took her hand and inspected the ring, a glittering pink sapphire that matched her favorite pink hair perfectly. He had seen Lupin and Tonks together at Dumbledore's funeral, but he didn't think they'd consider marriage so quickly...

"That's fantastic," Ulquiorra said, surprisingly sincere, to Tonks's delight and Lupin's sheepish happiness, "Congrat-"

"Save the chit-chat for later," Moody boomed, casting silence amidst Ulquiorra's Espada sized posse. "We need to go over the plan."

* * *

Ulquiorra's eyebrow twitched. "No." He grit out, ignoring the mirthful shrieks of laughter in his head from his eccentric Zanpaktou. "Absolutely not."

"I told you he'd take it like this," Hermione said all knowingly, causing another irritated twitched of the former Espada's eyebrow.

"I highly doubt this would work," Ulquiorra said with a tinge of desperation, he so badly didn't want one, let alone seven, of the wizards walking around with his body. He then imagined Ron with his body and shuddered. "Please reconsider."

They didn't, and Ulquiorra actually grumbled as he pulled out a few of his hairs to give to the paranoid Ex-Auror.

* * *

"You look much tastier than Crabbe or Goyle at least!" Hermione said brightly as the Polyjuice Potion turned a very dark Shamrock emerald green. Ron looked at her weirdly, and Hermione quickly backtracked. "Well, he does! Goyle's looked like bogies..."

"Right then, fake Potters line up!" Moody barked, and Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Fred, and George lined up in front of him.

"You're one short," Ulquiorra said with a little too much glee. Perhaps with a missing person the plan couldn't go into action...

_**Please, Master. Since when is Life that kind to **_**you?**

"Here," Hagrid said gruffly, dragging Mundungus over by the scruff of his shirt collar.

…

_**Told you.**_

_Dammit._

* * *

_This is so disturbing. _Ulquiorra stared openly at the six perfect copies of himself as they moved about the room putting on Ulquiorra-sized clothes and stared and at themselves. Ulquiorra couldn't help but turn his nose up at the clothes they were wearing. Blue jeans and T shirts were in abundance. And was that _plaid flannel _Hermione was putting on his body? Ulquiorra stared at the clothes _he_ was wearing. A long sleeved white shirt with horizontal thick black stripes that was loose enough to appear casual but tight enough to hint at his muscular physique, slim (but not skinny, _never _skinny) _black_ jeans, and solid black Derby shoes that shone smartly under the kitchen lights. His outer wear was a black zip up hoodie and the fingerless magical protective gloves from Fred and George's shop.

He compared their bumbling teenage style to his more Gothic and stylish fashion and sighed sadly. For God's sake, they had Sketchers brand shoes!

Fred and George turned to each other after dressing and exclaimed, "Oh look! We're identical!"

"Blimey Harry!" Ron said in awe, running a hand over his (and by his, Ulquiorra meant _his_, not Ron's) abdomen. "You're in real good shape!"

"You really are Harry," Hermione agreed blushing, to which Ron scowled. "You must exercise quite a bit."

"...Yes, I train frequently and vigorously." Ulquiorra said monotonously, fighting the urge to tear at his own eyes.

Murciélago was laughing hysterically of course. Ulquiorra glared sourly at nothing as his doppelgangers struggled to put in eye contacts. Suddenly, after they had managed to put the contacts in without blinding themselves, the Weasely Wizard Wheeze's creators stared at each other and smirked mischievously.

"Hey! Does this mean-"

"We can finally see-"

"Harry _smile?"_ The twins finished together, much to Ulquiorra's horror and everyone's interest. A chorus of 'Oh yeah!' and 'That's right!' filled the room. Even _Moody_ seemed curious. Everyone stared eagerly and intently at the twins as they smirked wickedly. However, their brows soon were furrowed as if confused.

"What is it?"

"...We...can't seem to smile all the way." George grunted, still smirking wickedly, albeit with strain.

"It's like the muscles in his mouth don't go that far. Or he's missing about twenty of them." Fred said frustratedly. Everyone sighed, wildly disappointed.

Ulquiorra smirked smugly.

* * *

"That was my owl." Ulquiorra said coldly with venom in his voice as he stared at the dead corpse of his wizard animal companion. Murciélago hissed in anger for her fallen winged creature. "I liked that owl." He snarled and whipped out his wand and immediately stunned an unsuspecting Death Eater mercilessly. The evil bastard dropped like a brick off his broom and tumbled down towards the ground as one of his fellows swooped out of the chase to save him.

Hagrid yelled something and hit a green button on the dashboard, causing a fucking brick wall to appear out of the exhaust pipe and expand into a type of barrier behind them. Ulquiorra heard a satisfying crunch as one of the Death Eaters hit the wall and fell to his doom, while the rest swerved out of the way. The Death Eaters continued to shoot Killing Curses at Hagrid, but Ulquiorra shot curses right back at them. And when Ulquiorra played with magic, he liked to play a little dirty.

Ulquiorra eyes narrowed in amusement as he heard one of the Death Eaters scream in pain as his suddenly elongated toenails collided with his shoes and broke off from the skin of his toes. His eyes widened however and he jerked his wand to shoot another stunner at _another _incoming Avadea Kedavra, causing a Christmas colored explosion of sorts.

Hagrid hit another button, causing a net to fly out, but the Eaters of Death were ready and all managed to avoid it, not to mention the Death Eater that had left to catch his stunned comrade had now caught up. Swell.

"This'll do it, Harry, hold on tight!" Hagrid yelled over the roar of the engine and curses, and slammed his hand on the large Emergency-only button.

_Oh shit._

* * *

_**SHHHHHIIIIIIIITTTTTTT!**_ Ulquirora, Murciélago, _and _Voldequirra screamed within their mental landscape as Hagrid accidentally broke the sidecar completely off the motorcycle, causing Ulquiorra to begin plummeting to his death.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ulquiorra pointed his wand at the sidecar, and felt himself levitate upwards, much to his relief.

Said relief died when more curses streaked past his face, illuminating his face for all the Death Eaters to see. He knew they had gotten a clear look at his face from their yelling.

"Dear god, is that really Potter?"

"What's with the tattoos?!"

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes, and slung his rucksack over his shoulder. The sidecar was falling rapidly and he'd have to somehow escape the damn thing. Ulquiorra ducked into the sidecar as more jinxes and spell shot overhead. His Firebolt had fallen out of the car a while ago...unless...

Sticking his head out of the infernal sidecar, he aimed a jinx at the nearest Death Eater. "Impedimenta!" The Death Eater froze in midair, the broom moving without him from previous momentum. Ulquiorra quickly pointed his wand at the wandering broomstick. "Accio broomstick!" The broom shot towards him, and Ulquiorra took a suicidal leap off the side of the sidecar and managed to land on the broom well enough to jerk out of the way of the incoming curse from some random Death Eater lackey. He dived under the falling sidecar to rise up again on the opposite side, regained control of the damn thing via levitation and magically chucked it at the Death Eater clump.

"Confringo!" The sidecar, and Hedwig's body, exploded in a work of fire. Ulquiorra felt a mild pang of remorse as his faithful owl went up in orange and scarlet flames. Ulquiora sped up to match Hagrid as the Death Eaters were distracted from the fiery explosion.

"Hello." Ulquiorra called tonelessly over the motorcycle and roaring wind. Murciélago and Voldequiorra face palmed.

* * *

Ulquiorra faltered at the sight of an obviously Imperius-controlled Stan Shunpike. Thanks to his stupidly developed hero complex (though luckily he had much more control over it unlike his fourth year at Hogwarts), and natural human reluctance to kill other humans, he was much more hesitant to kill an obvious innocent. He raised his wand arm to cast a simple Disarming Charm-

_**NO! **_Murciélago screamed loudly (and painfully) in his ears. **_You can't use that! It's your signature move! You'll be spotted instantly!_**

_I have a signature move?_

_**YES! Don't use it!**_

Ulquiorra wasn't too sure about the whole signature move thing, but he'd take her word for it. She knew him just as well as he did. Maybe even better.

He quickly cast a Stinging Hex at Stan's arm, causing the involuntary Death Eater to clutch his arm in pain and swerve away. He continued to fire hexes, jinxes, and counter the curses aimed at himself and Hagrid. Eventually he heard Hagrid shout that they were almost there, when his forehead began to lightly tingle. That meant-

_Voldemort is near, but he did he know it was me?_

_**He doesn't, **_Murciélago explained hastily, **_He's jumping from fake Potter to fake Potter and using your connection to pin you down. Occulmency only blocks your dreams and thoughts, at such close range he'll be able to feel its you, albeit barely._**

"Perfect" Ulquiorra grumbled, before calling out to Hagrid, "Hagrid, speed up!"

* * *

Ulquiorra hurriedly dived under the Killing Curse Voldemort shot at him and glared at the snake-eye bastard. Ulquiorra shot Sectumsempra at Voldemort, which the Dark Lord predictably blocked. However, Ulquiorra used that short delay to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, his broom, and rucksack. Still carefully dodging the now extremely frustrated and random Avada Kedavras shooting in his general direction, he shot a hex to block the spell aimed for the motorcycle engine. He then quickly changed position to avoid Voldemort's extremely furious and overly violent curses. Distantly registering Voldemort's dramatic and shrill cries of "MINE! HE'S MINE!", Ulquiorra happily sensed strong magic up ahead and realized they were very close to their destination.

Flying up next to Hagrid and quietly reassuring him that yes, he was still alive and right behind him, he backtracked and settled behind the motorcycle. Holding his wand behind him, he began zig-zagging in the sky, bright green flames jetted out of his wand, creating a wall of obstructive and dense emerald fire. Ulquiorra followed Hagrid, both flying contraptions shooting towards the ground, and soon felt the Fidelius Charm of the safe house envelop him, Voldemort's screams of fury at once _again_ being outmatched by someone decades younger fading away.

* * *

Ulquiorra politely accepted the tea Andromeda Tonks gave him and Hagrid after they arrived, calm (well, Ulquiorra) and composed on their back doorstep. He tilted the cup slightly and had a small sip, happy with the generous amount of milk and sugar.

He couldn't take tea without milk and sugar. It tasted disgusting.

* * *

His Soul Pager had been totaled in the fight. Ulquiorra sighed and removed the dented, but intact, bat charm and put it in his pocket before tossing the phone in the trash. How was he supposed to talk to his woman now?

* * *

Ulquiorra stared aghast at George's ear. Well, the extremely bloody mess it used to be, anyway. Ulquiorra moved forward, wand out. "I know a minor healing spell," he said softly to Mrs. Weasely who was bent sobbing over George's breathing but still body. "If you would let me-" Ulquiorra didn't finish the sentence thanks to Lupin grabbing his arm and slamming him against a cupboard.

_**OI!**_

"What creature sat in the corner the first time that Harry Potter visited my office at Hogwarts?" Lupin demanded agitatedly. "Answer me!"

"A grindylow." Ulquiorra answered tonelessly. He paused. "Please release my jacket now." Lupin hastily let go of the front of Ulquiorra's black hoodie, which he had been gripping during the brief interrogation. Ulquiorra calmly brushed his front of imaginary dirt and turned to the thundering footsteps of the approaching Grimmjow Jaggerjaques and Sirius Black.

"Harry!" and "Bastard!" were called out in perfect unison as both rushed over to him. Grimmjow at least stopped in front of George to inspect the damage. Sirius however, ignored the poor guy and rushed straight to his godson. "Harry! Are you alright?" Sirius asked worriedly, hands gripping his shoulders, dark eyes roaming all over Ulquiorra's body to check for injury. Ulquiorra patted his godfather's arm, causing the older man to release his shoulders from their death grip, although his right hand lingered on Ulquiorra's left shoulder. "Yes," Ulquiorra reassured the former fugitive, "I'm fine." Sirius beamed, letting out a relieved and slightly hysteric bark of laughter. "Damn right. Shouldn't have worried. You have your father's fighting spirit." He finished the (expected) comparison by drawing Ulquiorra into a 'man hug'.

Grimmjow snickered at him and Ulquiorra glared.

At least _that _ was right with the universe.

* * *

Hemrione and Kingsley are alive.

Good.

* * *

Ulquiorra heard Arthur Weasely before he saw him, as he fought to get to George's bedside, the pale-faced Fred right behind. They all crowded around the fallen Weasely's bedside, who groaned and shifted on the couch.

"How do you feel, Georgie?" whispered Mrs. Weasley. George's fingers groped at the side of his head.

"Saintlike" he murmured.

"What's wrong with him?" croaked Fred, looking terrified. "Is his mind affected?"

"Saintlike," repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. "You see . . . I'm holy. Holey. Fred: geddit?"

Ulquiorra faced palmed, as did Grimmjow. Although Grimmjow's face palm was accompanied by a "Are you fucking shitting me?"

"Pathetic," Fred told George shakily. "Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?" George grinned sheepishly and turned to his sobbing mother.

"Aw c'mon Mum. 'Least you'll be able to tell us apart, yeah? Hi Harry," He nodded to Ulquiorra before a confused look appeared. "Uh, you _are _Harry right?"

"The annoyingly famous, right here." Ulquiorra said dryly, glad that George was feeling well enough to still be his joking obnoxious self.

"Well, at least we got you back okay," said George, "Why aren't Ron and Bill huddled round my sickbed?"

..._**Awkward.**_

* * *

"Ron was great," said Tonks warmly, relinquishing her hold on Lupin. "Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters, straight to the head, and when you're aiming at a moving target from a flying broom—"

"You did?" said Hermione, gazing up at Ron with her arms still around his neck. Ulquiorra tugged at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably in the face of their sexual tension.

"Always the tone of surprise," Ron said a little grumpily, breaking free. "Are we the last back?" Ulquiorra shook his head. Ginny continued for him.

"No," said Ginny, "we're still waiting for Bill and Fleur and Mad-Eye and Mundungus. I'm going to tell Mum and Dad you're okay, Ron—"

* * *

Ulquiorra had never lost a comrade's life as a human, not a real one at any rate. It wasn't pleasant. His stomach felt like a recently gutted Jack O' Lantern and his heart felt too heavy for his chest. His eyes slid shut in silent mourning.

Grimmjow stood silently next to him, glaring at everyone and everything, hands shoved in his pockets and his posture slouched. He let out a quiet and angry, "Tch." and looked away from the group.

Murciélago let out a sad little crooning noise, and in his minds eye he could see her sitting at the shore of one of his underground lakes, knees at her chest, tail flat on the ground and wings drooping sadly. She had been particularly fond of Mad Eye. She liked the crazy ones.

Everyone else in the room dealt with the grief more conventionally; with silence, depression, heavy faces, and tears.

Bill walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky and some glasses.

"Here," he said, and with a wave of his wand he sent twelve full classes soaring through the room to each of them, holding the thirteenth aloft. "Mad-Eye."

"Mad-Eye," they all said, and drank.

* * *

Ulquiorra pinched his nose between his fingers, and breathed in deeply. His scar was tingling again, and he peeked through the metaphorical door between his and Voldemort's mind.

A frail old man, a familiar frail old man was cowering on the floor. He was in tattered rags and screaming in unbearable agony.

"_No! No! I beg you, I beg you. . . ."_

"_You lied to Lord Voldemort, Ollivander!"_

"_I did not. . . . I swear I did not. . . ."_

"_You sought to help Potter, to help him escape me!"_

"_I swear I did not. . . . I believed a different wand would work. . . ."_

"_Explain, then, what happened. Lucius's wand is destroyed!"_

"_I cannot understand. . . . The connection . . . exists only . . . between your two wands. . . ."_

"_Lies!"_

Ulquiorra and Murciélago closed the symbolic door as Voldemort's began torturing Olivander.

_**Your wands didn't even come into direct contact, it's not Olivander's fault Voldemort's a total loser.**_

_Yes, but Voldemort temperamental enough to take his anger on a helpless victim, and arrogant enough to think that the only reason I could have possibly evaded him **again **__was because of our wand's brotherhood._

_**Fair point.**_

* * *

Ron, Hermione, and Grimmjow all joined him outside shortly after the vision ended.

Ron seemed disturbed. Hermione terrified. Grimmjow...Grimmjow.

Grimmjow grinned ferally. "You have an all access pass to Voldemort's head? Sweet. Great battle advantage." Ron gaped at him, while Ulquiorra dipped his head, glad someone actually saw the good in his strange mental situation.

Hermione ignored them all and immediately began to lecture. As usual.

"But it was supposed to have stopped! Your scar—it wasn't supposed to do this anymore! You mustn't let that connection open up again—Dumbledore wanted you to close your mind!"

When he did not reply (in fact, he very pointedly and obviously rolled his eyes), she gripped his arm.

"Harry, he's taking over the Ministry and the newspapers and half the Wizarding world! Don't let him inside your head too!"

_**Well, that's overly dramatic.**_

* * *

"Ron and Hermione seem to think that the three of you are dropping out of Hogwarts," Mrs. Weasely began in a light, casual tone. Ron warned him of this. He and Hermione had already gotten their own interrogation, from Mrs. Weasely, Mr. Weasely, Sirius, and Lupin. However, Mr. Weasely and Lupin dropped it, as did Sirius (after barking with laughter at the sheer unlikelihood of it all). Molly Weasely? Not so much.

"Oh," said Ulquiorra, manually folding a shirt and placing it in the folded laundry pile. "Yes. I am. They are not." Ron and Hermione had certainly told her that they were coming with him, which they weren't.

He _told_ them they weren't. Just because he agreed to come to this wedding and trailed off into silence didn't mean he changed his mind. Wasn't his fault they didn't get it.

His prediction proved true with Mrs. Weasely's confused face and question of "They aren't?" Ulquiorra shook his head. "No, they aren't. But don't tell them that. It'll upset them." He picked up the Quidditch team patterned sock she had 'needed' him to identify. "This is not mine. I don't own any socks that aren't black, white, or in a single pair's case: green."

* * *

"Mama Ginger's separating you from Hermione and the Weasel." Grimmjow noted casually as he and Ulquiorra washed dishes. Well, Ulquiorra washed dishes. Grimmjow lazily flicked his wand every once in a while to dry them. Ulquiorra nodded. "She knows I won't let them come with me," Ulquiorra said as he scrubbed a oddly stubborn stain with a sponge, "but she also knows they don't know that. She's trying to prevent them from finding out and getting me to allow them to come."

What was _with_ this food stain?

Grimmjow grunted, flicking his hand carelessly, instantly taking care of the blemish that Ulquiorra was laboriously trying to clean. Ulquiorra glared at him, before resignedly holding the plate out so Grimmjow could dry the damn thing. "Ironic that I'm the one going with you and yet she keeps pairing us up together." Ulquiorra shrugged. "Ignorance at its finest."

* * *

The next day, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow (who had been in charge of the chickens) settled outside with a pen and paper and were discussing their 'plan of attack' so to speak.

Ulquiorra neatly wrote down all the Horcurxes on the paper, crossing out the already destroyed ones.

_Diary-D_

_Ring-D_

_Locket-D_

_Snake_

_Huff. Cup_

_Gryff./Rvnclw item_

_'Voldequiorra' -rdy for destruction_

"'Voldequiorra'?"

"It's a fragment of Voldemort's soul that lives within my inner world," Ulquiorra explained. "_I _am the seventh and extremely accidental Horcrux. 'Voldequiorra' is what Murciélago calls him."

"Huh." Grimmjow said, sipping from a glass of cold milk. "That's why you can see into his head, huh?"

"Yes. He doesn't try to see into mine. Too risky for him." Grimmjow snorted. "But not for you obviously." He drawled sarcastically. Ulquiorra nodded. "Obviously." the former Sexta rolled his eyes.

"Well, our Zanpaktous can destroy these things, so where do we strike first?"

"Dumbledore, naturally, didn't give me any real leads," Ulquiorra sighed, tapping the pen against the list. "However, we should go the the Snake and 'Voldequiorra' last. Hufflepuff's cup will be the easiest to find, since we actually know what it is."

"...This is gonna be a fun little adventure, huh?"

"Absolutely delightful."

* * *

_"Leroy! Salut! Je vous avez manqué!" (Leroy! Hi! I missed you!_

_"Salut. Vous avez raté trop."_ (Hey. I missed you too.)

_"Est-Harry-Eep!" (Is Harry-Eep!)_

Ulquiorra blinked blankly as Grimmjow towered over the eleven year old Gabrielle Delacour, who wrapped her arms around him in a sibling-esque hug. Grimmjow patted her head, laughing manically when she squeaked at the sight of Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra shrugged and gave a little wave (which was really just him raising a hand in acknowledgment), figuring that it wouldn't hurt. His head tilted sideways when she beamed at him and batted her eyelashes at him.

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. Murciélago laughed. Grimmjow and Ginny scowled.

_...What?_

* * *

"You were muttering Gregorovitch in your sleep." Ron informed him matter-of-factly when Ulquiorra woke up the morning of his birthday.

"Gregorovitch?" That sounded really familiar. He had definitely heard that name before.

_**I'll browse the archives.**_

* * *

"It's pure gold: _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_. Explains everything you need to know about girls. If only I'd had this last year I'd have known exactly how to get rid of Lavender and I would have known how to get going with . . . Well, Fred and George gave me a copy, and I've learned a lot. You'd be surprised, it's not all about wandwork, either." Ron explained his birthday gift to Ulquiorra; a guide on girls. Ulquiorra, while initially very surprised that Ron got him a _book_, was actually quite pleased with the gift. Especially since he had a 'girlfriend' now, even though girlfriend seemed too light a term to describe the relationship between him and Orihime.

Although, Orihime had a strange knack for knowing what he meant so he probably didn't _really _need the book. However, this would help him understand _her_ better possibly, and his woman deserved the best.

* * *

It was a watch, a golden pocket watch with stars instead of hands. Ulquiorra ran a thumb over the dented back. The watch looked old, and despite it's battered look, had a worn class and elegance to it. Ulquiorra liked it, but wondered why the Weasely family decided to give him a watch, much less one so battered. Ulquiorra turned it over in his hands, closing the watch with a functional and sharp click.

"It's traditional to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age." said Mrs. Weasley, watching him anxiously from beside the corner. _Oh. So that's why I got a watch. _"I'm afraid that one isn't new like Ron's, it was actually my brother Fabian's and he wasn't terribly careful with his possessions, it's a bit dented on the back, but—"

Ulquiorra did something he never thought he would do again. He stood up and gave Mrs. Weasely a solid hug. He stood stiffly and it was terribly awkward on his part, thanks to his almost hug-virgin status, but she got the gist. In fact, in her eyes, the fact _he_ had given another human being a _hug _just made it all the more meaningful.

This was proven by the clumsy pat on the cheek and the accidental dumping of half a pack of bacon on the floor. Ulquiorra gently smacked his hand to his forehead as Panthère, Grimmjow's black cat, dashed forward and snatched a piece of bacon from the ground and streaked back to Grimmjow's lap, happily munching on the fallen bacon.

_...Wait...what exactly is Grimmjow going to do with that cat?_

* * *

"You're going to give the cat to the Gabrielle girl?"

"Until we finish doing...whatever we're doing."

"...Whatever."

* * *

Ulquiorra was uncomfortable. Ginny had asked him to come to her room to talk...or something. And they were alone. In her room. Alone.

"...Nice view." Ulquiorra said stonily, indicating the view of the orchard that Ulquiorra, Hermione, and the youngest Weasely siblings had played Quidditch. Ginny just stared at him.

"I couldn't think what to get you," she said.

"You didn't have to get me anything." She disregarded this.

"I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you." He chanced a glance at her. She wasn't showing much emotion except determination and possibly longing. Ulquiorra coughed a bit.

"So then I thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing."

"I think dating opportunities are going to be scarce, to be honest." Ulquiorra said dryly, too absorbed in the absurdity of the statement to realize where she was going with this.

"There's the silver lining I've been looking for," she whispered, and leaned forward to kiss him. Ulquiorra blanched. _Crap._ Ulquiorra instantly leaned back, his hand shooting up to block her lips from his. Her brows furrowed in confusion and hurt. Ulquiorra took a hasty step back and turned away from Ginny, hands in his pockets again. He cleared his throat. "Ah, I-" he broke off, not sure what to do. He'd known Ginny for years, and while she had just been Ron's annoying baby sister for the majority of them, he had recently come to see her as an enjoyable acquaintance. He turned back towards her, frowning lightly. "I'm..._flattered,_" That wasn't a bad way to start right? "but I don't think of you-_us_, in a romantic sense." He had been looking out the window during this, but he chanced a glance towards her. She looked disappointed, rejected, and a lot of other horrible things. Ulquiorra stood poker straight, embarrassed and confused. She continued to stare up at him with pain-filled eyes, and Ulquiorra, like most other teenage males, began to continue talking when he really shouldn't out of sheer awkwardness and social terror.

"In fact, I have a girlfriend." He continued, wondering why he wouldn't stop talking. "She's beautiful. Much more stunning than a veela. I don't like veelas. They're too pale. I think it's the hair. I like red hair. Not _your_ hair per say. Your hair is too red. I like a softer red. Like sunrises, I like sunrise red. But continuing on the subject of my girlfriend, you haven't met her. She lives very far away, but needless to say I'm quite insanely in love with her. I'm not entirely certain why, she's my polar opposite, but I suppose that's how love works. I mean, I think her fantasies about robots are _fascinating, _and I find her obsession with red paste _adorable_, of all things.I think about her quite often. I think about her laugh and smile mostly. She has a wonderful laugh. I realized when I was around six that it reminds me of bubbles..."

He kept going, helplessly awkward and unable to stop for some reason, only shutting up when Grimmjow came in, smacked him on the head and dragged him from the room.

At least she didn't cry. A nice thing about Ginny. She wasn't a crier.

* * *

"...I'm sorry."

"..."

"...I am. I just...couldn't stop talking."

"..."

"..."

"...If-If I had said something sooner...would anything be different? Between us, I mean?"

"No. I have loved her since...well, since a very long time."

"Oh."

"..."

"...This actually explains a _lot._"

"I figured it might."

"...Don't tell Ron what happened. In fact, don't tell any of my brothers. Or father. Or anyone."

"I won't if you won't."

* * *

"I am here, as I'm sure you know, because of Albus Dumbledore's will."

Ulquiorra, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another.

"A surprise, apparently? You were not aware the that Dumbledore had left you anything?"

"A—all of us?" said Ron. "Me and Hermione too?"

"Yes, all of—"

"Dumbledore died over a month ago. Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?" Ulquiorra interrupted, noting that Panthère had slipped into the room and perched herself on the arm of the sofa. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes, and Panthère turned her black little nose up at him. Grimmjow must have asked her to spy on them. Jackass.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, before Scrimgeour could answer. "They wanted to examine whatever he's left us. You had no right to do that!" she said, and her voice trembled slightly.

"I had every right," said Scrimgeour dismissively. "The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will—"

"That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts," said Hermione, "and the Ministry is supposed to have evidence that the deceased's possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?"

"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour coldly, irritated that she was pointing obvious flaws in his ability to uphold the law.

"No, I'm not," retorted Hermione. "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!"

Ron laughed, Scrimgeour's eyes flickered toward him angrily but turned away again as Ulquiorra spoke, smirking like the little bastard Scrimgeour thought he was.

"So why have you decided to let us have our things now? Can you not think of a pretext to keep them?"

"No, it'll be because the thirty-one days are up," said Hermioneat once. "They can't keep the objects longer than that unless they can prove they're dangerous. Right?"

* * *

"'_The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore' . . . _Yes, here weare._ . . .'To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.'"_

It appeared as a small silver lighter, but Ulquiorra knew that its real ability was to suck out all the light in an area and put it back at the users will. His eyes narrowed. He knew why Ron had been left that item. It was because Dumbledore thought it would help on the mission to defeat Voldemort and his Horcurxes. But Ron wasn't going to be joining him on his 'adventure'.

Damn. He wasn't sure if he could steal something that was left to someone else in the will of the man _he_ killed.

He would think about it.

* * *

"'_To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of **The Tales of Beedle the Bard**, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.'"_

With that, he handed Hermione an extremely worn book, looking at least several centuries old. It looked like it would fall apart the minute you opened it. Ulquiorra noticed it was runes, something he didn't learn to read, because he had been a stupid 12 year old who let Ronald Weasely convince him that Divination would be a useful class to take.

Bastard.

* * *

"'_To Harry James Potter,'_" he read, and Ulquiorra wondered idly what the hell he would get from the deceased Headmaster. _"'I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.'"_

Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. "...Are you saying he left me a _Snitch_ in his will?"

"I'm asking the questions," Scrimgeour snapped, pulling out a weakly fluttering golden Snitch.

"I notice that your birthday cake is in the shape of a Snitch," Scrimgeour said to Ulquiorra, referring to the rather large and, to be frank, delicious looking cake waiting for him outside.. "Why is that?"

Hermione laughed derisively. "Oh, it can't be a reference to the fact that Harry's a great Seeker, that's way too obvious," she said. "There must be a secret message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!"

"I don't think there's anything hidden in the icing," said Scrimgeour, "but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I'm sure?"

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. He liked to play the game, but he didn't spend his free time reading about it. Especially about how _Snitches _worked. Hermione, however, answered: Ulquiorra was beginning to believe it was pure instinct for her, much like how a rabbit would jump the first other rabbit of opposite gender (unless it was a homosexual rabbit) it saw during mating season .

"Because Snitches have flesh memories," she said.

"What?" said Ron, while Ulquiorra merely tilted his head to the side. He didn't think Hermione really knew _anything _about the magical sport. Then he wondered _why_ she knew that. Was she really that bored with her life?

"Correct," said Scrimgeour. "A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human

to lay hands upon it, in the case of disputed capture. This Snitch-" he held up the tiny golden ball, an eager glint in his eyes, "-will remember your touch, Potter. It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you."

* * *

Ulquiorra grasped the Golden Snitch in his hand, feeling and relishing the familiar beat of tiny gossamer wings against his closed fist.

"What?" Ulquiorra asked the disappointed and flabbergasted Minister of Magic. "Were you expecting it to do backflips or something?

* * *

"Alright. I just have one question," Ron said as they all met in the attic after everyone went to bed.

"What?"

"Why is _he _here?" Ron jerked his head towards Grimmjow, who looked mildly insulted. "What, I'm not good enough for your little club?" He asked sarcastically, petting his trusty kitty, who purred in his lap happily, soaking up every minute she had left with her owner. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes.

After lightly discussing why the hell Dumbledore left them all this stuff, the unavoidable topic of Ulquiorra's Snitch was brought up.

"Well, I did not exactly try too hard, did I?" Ulquiorra mused, holding up the Snitch so that the light the Deluminator cast reflected off gold metal. "It's not like I caught this Snitch with my hands." Hermione and Grimmjow looked confused, but Ron, the Quidditch fanatic, let out a yelp of realization and pointed from Ulquiorra to the Snitch and back again wildly.

"You nearly swallowed that one!"

Ulquiorra nodded and promptly, without changing his facial expression at all, stuck the Snitch in his mouth.

Grimmjow, the bastard, laughed.

* * *

_I open at the close._

Gee, that's descriptive.

* * *

"Those...are children's stories?" Ulquiorra asked flatly. Grimmjow and Ron, the two magically raised wizards, nodded.

"All the old kids' stories are supposed to be Beedle's, aren't they? _'The Fountain of Fair Fortune' . . . 'The Wizard and the Hopping Pot' . . . 'Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump' . . . "_

Hermione giggled at the last title, while Grimmjow rolled his eyes. Ulquiorra huffed. "You cannot expect us to know that," he pointed out "Hermione and I were raised by muggles. We heard fairy tales like _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_...or _Hansel and Gretel..._"

"Or_ Cinderella." _Hermione chimed in, adding her own two cents. Grimmjow and Ron looked puzzled. "Is that some type of illness?" Ron asked.

Ulquiorra face palmed.

* * *

Oh weddings. Ulquiorra had never been to one before, much less a _wizard _wedding.

This'll be fun.

_**PARTY~**_

* * *

_**GREGOROVITCH! I FOUND HIM!**_ Murciélago screamed triumphantly. Ulquiorra supposed that was good, except he nearly interrupted the freakin' wedding ceremony by covering his ears as her shrill batty shrieks filled his head.

Grimmjow leaned over and told him to be a good little bastard and suck it up.

Ulquiorra kicked him in the shin.

* * *

A wandmaker. A rather famous one who had made Viktor Krum's (who was also attending the wedding) wand.

So Voldemort was after a wandmaker? That both made sense and did not bode well. Fantastic.

* * *

"Grindelvald. That is Grindelvald's sign." Viktor glowered at Xenophilious Lovegood, who sported bright yellow dress robes and a necklace with what looked like a vertical stick inside a circle that was surrounded by three tangents creating a triangle.

"Really?" Ulquiorra said interestedly. "Fascinating. Although I highly doubt he knows that," he added as Krum pulled out his wand in anger, "he probably thinks its something involving Wrackspurts or some other nonsense. One cannot be truly angry at the ignorant, only scornful."

"If you say so Barry." Krum muttered unhappily, sticking his wand away after a long tense pause of intense glowering in the yellow-clad man's direction.

"It's Barney." Ulquiorra sighed, forever trolled by life, at the fact that the Order had insisted (i.e. attempted to spike his juice with Polyjuice Potion and resorted to shoving it down his throat when they failed) that he take up an alias during the wedding for 'protection'.

He hated life sometimes.

* * *

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra sat there awkwardly as a drunken Muriel Weasely and a Elphias Doge argued over the true past of Albus Dumbledore.

Doge insisted he was a good man and everything Muriel was saying was essentially bullshit.

Muriel was saying that Dumbledore's younger sister was a Squib, Mother Dumbledore locked her up and pretended she didn't exist (as did most of the other Dumbledores), Ariana, the younger sister, accidentally killed Mama Dumby in a struggle for freedom, and that Abberforth (the brother) broke Albus's nose during the younger sister's funeral and blamed Albus for her death (which he apparently didn't deny).

It was a lot of stuff to filter through. And said stuff sadly wasn't defending _'The Hidden Side of Albus Dumbledore: The Acts of Dark Magic and Manipulation-The Prequel!" _either. It was actually kinda enforcing it, what with the nastier accusations having some kind of (granted, debatable) proof, where Doge just sputtered in horror and weak protest.

"-I think Bathilda has spilled the beans to Rita Skeeter. All those hints in Skeeter's interview

about an important source close to the Dumbledores—goodness knows she was there all through the Ariana business, and it would fit!" _Oh, they're still going. _Ulquiorra and Grimmjow shared a glance, before shifting their eyes back to the debating elders.

"Bathilda, would never talk to Rita Skeeter!" whispered Doge.

"Bathilda Bagshot?" Ulquiorra said, finally breaking their argument with his own questions. _Thank God. _"The author of _A History of Magic_?" Ah, _A History of Magic. _One of Ulquiorra's most useless textbooks ever. The two began bickering _again,_ mentioning that Bagshot had apparently lost her marbles a bit. Grimmjow mimicked being stabbed in the heart with a fork. Ulquiorra pretended to slice his own throat with a butter knife back at him.

"Oh, there are ways of bringing back memories, and I'm sure Rita Skeeter knows them all," said Auntie Muriel "But even if Bathilda's completely cuckoo, I'm sure she'd still have old photographs, maybe even letters. She knew the Dumbledores for years. . . .Well worth a trip to Godric's Hollow, I'd have thought."

_**Didn't your parents live there?**_

_Yes. He really could've mentioned that._

_**Seriously, bro.**_

_...What **is **it with you trying to use American slang? It's not working._

_**Just the way I roll, Master. ...The way I roll. It floats my boat. It's how I rock. The way I go. That's how-**_

_Please. Stop talking._

* * *

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra heads snapped towards each other as Hermione's hand shot to her mouth in horror next to the batty teenager. Grimmjow grimaced.

"That's just fucking great. Didn't even get any cake yet."

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow pushed through the crowd, trying to get back to the clump of bushes back near the Burrow. They had stashed their stuff, two rucksacks and the moleskin bag Ulquiorra got for his birthday, in them in case something like the current attack happened. Hermione, who had a death grip on Ulquiorra's hand, began pulling him to the center of the mass, in sobbing desperation to find Ron. Ulquiorra tugged her towards him and gripped her shoulders firmly and stared into her terrified brown eyes. "Find Ron," he said loudly over the noise, ducking and pulling Hermione out of the way of a mysterious streak of light, "I'll meet you two near the back door of the Burrow." He felt a slight twinge of guilt at the lie and gave her a sharp push. "Go!" The bushy haired girl stumbled over her dress as she began screaming the second-youngest Weasely's name. Ulquiorra turned away and weaved his way through the panicking crowd, who were running in all directions and dispparating away now that the protective barriers were gone. Ulquiorra caught up to Grimmjow, and the two ducked behind a table as they spotted a dark cloak and mask.

Finally, they managed to run/crawl/crouch their way to their stuff and open their bags in a last minute sweep.

"Invisibility Cloak?" Grimmjow asked in the cover of the bushes, double checking their supplies.

"Yes. Deluminator? Book of Beetle Bard?" Ulquiorra asked Grimmjow, who, unlike Ulquiorra, didn't have any qualms with stealing the items from Ron and Hermione. Well, Ron anyway.

"Yeah. Snitch, potion supplies, clothes?"

"Yes to all." Ulquiorra confirmed, after a quick scan. "Rune dictionary, tent, food?"

"Got it." Ulquiorra nodded. "I have the fake locket and other miscellaneous helpful items. Ready?"

"No shit. Let's get the _fuck_ out of here." Grimmjow deadpanned, the two slinging their packs over their shoulders. He grinned crazily and grabbed Ulquiorra's wrist, yanking him up.

"HARRY!" Ulquiorra turned his head as Grimmjow began to Apparate them out, and the last thing he saw before the world twisted away was Hermione and Ron sprinting toward them, Hermione half-sobbing and screaming, Ron yelling along with her, fear, anger, and confusion in their voices as they called his names.

His last word to them for many months, a whispered "Sorry" was lost in the screams and chaos as he and Grimmjow cracked loudly out of sight.

* * *

"Ah, _fuck_, I think I forgot my toothbrush."

"...No matter what, you are **NOT** using mine, you stupid idiot."

* * *

"They'll look for us here."

"Maybe not."

"It's so obvious that'd we'd come here."

"Yes. So obvious that we'd have to be idiots to hide out here. Thus, no one will look." Grimmjow stared at Ulquiorra skeptically. "Whatever. Damn, what a fucking hole." The blonde kicked the ground of Grimmauld Place and the two recoiled as a dust cloud rose from the carpet. "God, how could it get _dirtier?_"

"Have you even _been_ here before?" Ulquiorra asked incredulously, and Grimmjow scratched the back of his ear. "..."

"What?"

"...I've seen photos."

"..."

"Hey, what's-"

"_Serverus Snape?" _Rang out Mad-Eye Moody's croaking voice and Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "We're not Serverus Snape-" his tongue suddenly curled unpleasantly in his mouth, making it impossible to continue talking. However, before he could focus on the unpleasant sensation, the pink muscle had unfurled to its normal position in his mouth. He smacked his mouth to test the familiar feeling of tongue freedom, while Grimmjow opened his mouth wide and stuck out the appendage, wagging it up and down in the air, a disgusted look on his face. "Blargh."

"Tongue-Tying Curse." Ulquiorra said with a slight rasp, his mouth, although regaining moisture quickly, was still dry. "Defenses the Order set up-"

"HOLY FUCK MUFFINS!"

The never-ending supply of dust in the carpet suddenly collected in a Tasmanian Devil twister, settling to form a grotesque and dead Dust Dumbles. Its empty eye sockets stared at the two, before it glided (although really really fast) towards them, an wasted arm reaching towards their throats. Grimmjow crossed his arms indignantly.

"Hey! We didn't kill you! ...Well, I didn't anyway-" The figure, hearing the word 'kill', exploded into a dust bomb, causing the two to back up coughing. "Well," Ulquiorra drawled when the insane amount of filth settled, "that was just rude."

* * *

_Dear Padfoot, _

_Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself. I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there). Of course James thought it was so funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player, but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going. I have to say I was relieved to see Harry doing a 'normal' wizard child activity. You know Harry Padfoot, he hardly makes a peep, and barely smiles and is always drawing those pictures with the crayons I bought him. You seen them, remember? The white castle and bats? He been drawing something new though lately, it looks like a pretty red-haired girl surrounded by fairies. James thought it was me (as did I), but Harry insists it's not. Says her name- well, I assume it's her name anyway. He just points at the picture and says 'Onna'. _

_ We had a very quiet birthday tea, just what Harry likes (although he hates tea). Just us and old Bathilda who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first, and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell—also Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend. I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the next about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard. Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledore-_

Ulquiorra stared at the old letter as it was cut off. The letter, found in Sirius' old room, was clearly written to him before Voldemort killed Ulquiorra's family. Apparently he had always remembered his woman, even as an infant. And apparently he was always quiet to the point of abnormality. His eyes flickered upwards and scanned the beginning of the letter again and huffed lightly at the mention of the Potter family cat. _**I remember that cat!**_

_Really?_

**_Oh yeah. We _hated _that little son of a bitch. He would always steal your crayons and tear up your drawings. I once came out to tell him to back off and the bastard bit me. He freakin' BIT ME! 'Course I felt bad later when said cat 'mysteriously' died. Your mom liked him for some reason._**

_...And father?_

_**You guys secretly high-fived in victory when she wasn't looking.**_

…

_**You guys surprisingly agreed on a lot of things, despite being so different and you being a infant and all.**_

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the tiny black haired tot on the toy broomstick. Ulquiorra began searching for the remaining half of the letter (although he was doubtful he'd find it), both out of curiosity about Dumbledore and sentimentality. The toddler's toes skimmed the grass as he smiled (even then, he didn't really laugh), vivid green eyes free. A pair of legs followed him, and judging from the height and masculinity of said legs, Ulquiorra assumed the pair of limbs belonged to his father. Had this been his early years of childhood? Flying around on toy brooms, drawing pictures, being chased around by his father and doted on by his mother? It was so mundane and functional to the point of impossibility. Such a notion seemed foreign and queer, like an English-only speaking Englishmen trying to decipher a Frenchman's rapid speech.

"Aw, well ain't that _precious?" Oh god. _Grimmjow had snuck up behind the pondering Bat and snatched the photo out of his grasp. "Aren't you just adorable?" Grimmjow cooed mockingly, grinning with trembling shoulders to indicate that he was holding back loud boisterous laughter. "Bet Princess would want to see this, huh?" Ulquiorra snatched the photo back. "Shut up." He mumbled, feeling light heat across his cheeks. He felt like such a _teenager_. It was awful really. He slid the photo in his back pocket and stormed out of the old room. He heard Grimmjow burst into hysterical cackles as he followed him. He was about to head down the stairs to try to find _something _resembling edible food, when a unnoticed door and sign caught his attention.

_Do Not Enter_

_Without the Express Permission of_

_Regulus Arcturus Black_

"Hey. Look." Ulquiorra said, pointing at the 'R', then the 'A', and finally the 'B' when Grimmjow had caught up to Ulquiorra. "R.A.B."

* * *

"Sirius told me once that Regulus, his younger brother, had been a Death Eater. However, he had gotten cold feet and tried to leave, so Voldemort obviously killed him." Ulquiorra explained to Grimmjow as the entered the favorite son of the Black family's room. The walls were draped with green and silver, the colors of Slytherin house. The family crest was painted pretentiously in faded paint above the bed with the family motto beneath. Yellowed newspaper clippings were tacked up in a collage under the foreboding bold letters of Toujours Pur. Each one involved Voldemort, whether it be missing Ministry officials or a Muggle killing. While the eldest son's room was decorated to show how different he was from the Blacks, the younger strove to assimilate.

"Voldemort fanboy who chickened out,eh?" Grimmjow mused, squinting at the almost illegible print of the newspaper collage. "Tch. Figures."

* * *

"...Is that a house elf?" Grimmjow asked, his nose wrinkling a in a comically cat-like way as Kreacher stared at them. "..Yes. This is Kreacher- Hello Kreacher." Ulquiorra tonelessly greeted the old over-the-hill elf. Kreacher continued to stare creepily at them, his large bat like ears twitching.

Ignoring Grimmjow's mutterings of 'filthy little English elves', Ulquiorra focused on the Black family elf. "What-?"

"What are you doing in Master Regulus's room?" the unkept elf croaked hoarsely. Ulquiorra blinked. "...Isn't Sirius your Master?" The elf hunched over, gnarled fists clenched, with his eyes staring into the distance, making the creature look suitably deranged.

"Filthy blood traitor." Kreacher muttered darkly, "Broke My Mistress's heart with his unlawful ways and rebellious nature. Unfit to be my master, _yes_, Master should not be my master..."

"...Right." Ulquiorra said slowly. "Well, we were investigating his room because of his involvement with a locket." He said this a little sarcastically, thinking Kreacher would have no idea what he was talking about. However, to his surprise, the (probably) slightly mad elf immediately snapped out his mutterings and stumbled forwards to grip Ulquiorra's pant legs. Ulquiorra weakly attempted to kick him off, but his grip was tight, and he was too pathetic for Ulquiorra to be overly violent. I mean, there was picking on the weak and there was picking on the crazy elderly elf. Some lines shouldn't be crossed.

"Master Regulus's locket?" Kreacher muttered, almost worshipful (which creeped the crap out of Grimmjow and Ulquiorra), "You know of Master Regulus's locket?"

"..._You _know about the locket?" Ulquiorra said confused. "What do you know about the locket?"

And so Kreacher spurted out the whole story. Ulquiorra wasn't sure if it was loneliness or something else, but Kreacher did not hide a detail when he told his tale. How Regulus Black followed family tradition and joined Voldemort, how Voldemort one day required an elf to _hide _ the locket, and how Regulus took Kreacher back to the cave and drank the potion himself, ordering Kreacher to destroy the locket and leave him to the Inferi.

"Wow. That's one pretty awesome, yet messed up, bastard." Grimmjow said in awe, reluctantly impressed with the final acts of Regulus Black. Kreacher ignored him and continued his story as though Grimmjow wasn't even there, only addressing Ulquiorra.

""Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work. . . . So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open . . . Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f–f–forbidden him to tell any of the f–f–family what happened in the c-cave . . . "

After stopping the elf from hurting himself (and possibly committing suicide) when Kreacher realized he had disobeyed the orders of not telling the story of the locket, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow persuaded the frantic elf that they weren't part of the Black family, thus no orders were broken. He calmed down considerably afterwards, and seemed to look at them with more liking. Not a lot, but a little. His glare didn't seem quite as contemptuous at least. Ulquiorra, who had been kneeling down to Kreacher's level, stood up and gestured for the elf and former Sexta to follow him. Grimmjow sidestepped the family servant and caught up to Ulquiorra. "What'cha doing?"

"I'm going to give him the lockets." Ulquiorra replied, continuing his confident stride, "We don't need them and at this point they're dead weight. And it will give the elf peace of mind and a reason to not kill himself." Ulquiorra paused. "And maybe it'll get him to like us enough that he won't make our stay here hell on earth." Grimmjow nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Princess has really rubbed off on you, hasn't she?" The last sentence was finished with a perverted leer, which Ulquiorra matched with a disgusted death glare.

"Don't be repugnant."

"Who's being repugnant? I didn't say anything like that, _you're _the one who interpreted it."

"...Shut up."

* * *

"I don't need these anymore," Ulquiorra said brusquely, the heavy golden locket and it's smaller decoy swinging lightly as Ulquiorra griped the chains in his hand. "Grimmjow," he jerked his head to the nonchalant blonde, who grunted in response, "destroyed it. You seem to be rather attached to them both, so _you_ can have them-"

"Overkill, batboy." Grimmjow said as Kreacher took a glance at not one, but _two _golden lockets and threw himself on the ground, shrieking and howling with fat tears, curling up in a fetal position. The two former Espada winced at the noise. Well, Ulquiorra winced. Grimmjow slapped his hands over his ears and began screaming, "DEAR GOD, SHUT HIM UP! MY EARS ARE SENSITIVE DAMMIT!"

* * *

About an half-an-hour later they managed to calm him down. Afterward he bowed so low his nose touched the floor, mumbling how 'Master Sirius' could learn from 'Master Potter' and 'Master Jaggerjaques'.

The two wizards shared a sideways glance. In the end, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow decided it was best to awkwardly stand there.

* * *

"My kind don't usually breed!" Lupin shouted frantically, pulling at his hair. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow. "So? You managed to do the impossible. Good for you." He said dryly, munching on a cookie that Kreacher had whipped up. Lupin stared at him, disgusted, shocked, and appalled by the sheer amount of Grimmjow in the sentence. Ulquiorra sighed.

"I don't think werewolves are too eager to potentially create more werewolves." Ulquiorra pointed out, but then thought about Greyback, the monstrous bastard that preyed on young children to create more wolves to hate on humanity. "...Most of them, at any rate. Nevertheless," Ulquiorra turned back to Lupin. "I'm not letting you come." Lupin opened his mouth to protest but Ulquiorra continued. "You love Tonks, and deep down past the horror of letting your sperm follow it's instinctual course of action, you love your unborn child. Therefore, you are going to man up, grow a pair, and return to your family. You are going to deal with a pregnant Tonks, watch her birth the child, feel the pride and love only a father can feel, and you are going to _like_ it." _**Damn straight. You tell him Master!**_

"But-"

"You abandoning the kid ain't gonna magically destroy all chances of it being a werewolf." Grimmjow said bluntly and thickly, as his mouth was full of the last bites of cookie. "All it's gonna accomplish is making you a freakin' douche and get your wife mad at you for a long time. Seriously, don't you wizards know about protection?"

* * *

"Well, at least we averted a child's unhappiness and potential daddy issues."

"Go us."

* * *

"Alright, we need to brainstorm." Grimmjow said as the two leaned over maps on well polished kitchen table. Ever since the two had (easily) parted with the two lockets, Kreacher had started acting like a house-elf and gave them royal treatment in gratitude. "Where the fuck are we going?" Ulquiorra lightly grasped his chin with his pointer finger and thumb in thought. "Dumbledore said he would place them in locations that meant something significant to him." Ulquiorra mused, eyebrows furrowing. Grimmjow stared at him.

"...That's it?" he asked dubiously. "An entire year of 'lessons'-" Grimm made sure to put quotations with his fingers and tone at the word lessons, "-and that's all he told you location wise?"

"Yes."

"...Gee, what an informative mentor/guide." Ulquiorra smirked at the sarcastic barb towards the dead Headmaster. "Quite. He was rather annoying in that regard." Grimmjow let out a hiss of laughter. "So, important places?"

"Yes. Hogwarts definitely." Ulquiorra nodded firmly, circling the area Hogwarts was located on their world map. "It was his first home, as well as his school and the place he discovered he was 'superior' than his fellow non-magical orphanage companions. One will definitely be there...somewhere."

"Wow, you sure are able to relate to the guy." Ulquiorra shrugged. "We are similar in many regards. Except that I'm not a total racist imbecile with a superiority complex and abandonment issues."

"...Well, you're not racist, I'll give ya that."

* * *

"So...this is Godric's Hollow." Grimmjow said simply, staring at the quaint little village. It was very simple, with a town's square at the heart, a pub, a church with glittering stained-glass windows, a post office, and several shops mingling among cottages that families made their homes in. A war memorial stood in the square. Ulquiorra stared at the autumn leaves that swirled along the lane into the town. The two had debated for about a month, living comfortably in Grimmauld Place, on where to search.

They came up with pretty much nothing. Although, they did take a closer look at the book Dumbledore had left Hermione. Grimmjow didn't understand runes either, but they got the gist of the story from their rune dictionary and they noticed that the mark Xenophillius Lovegood was wearing at the Weasely wedding was also on the book cover. They were still talking about going to the Lovegood residence and asking the eccentric man about the symbol's meaning.

"It's very quiet." Ulquiorra said softly, walking towards the heart of the town. "I can picture my parents living here." An image of cocky, loud, mischievous James Potter flashed through his mind. "...Correction. I can picture my mother wanting to live here and dragging my father along with her."

* * *

"How you didn't become a arrogant bastard worthy of Kurosaki I'll never know." Grimmjow marveled as the two stared at the 'war memorial'. Apparently, the memorial was a magical cover-up, and it was actually a statue of the Potter family. James and Lily side-by-side, with baby Ulquiorra in Lily's arms. Ulquiorra had to agree. The memorabilia about 'Harry Potter: Boy Who Lived' was both unnecessary and in an ridiculous amount.

"Well, the relatives that raised me were neglectful, cruel, and were constantly doing their best to destroy my self-esteem."

"Yeah, that'll do it. Not to mention you're a cold apathetic jackass."

"...With a girlfriend, unlike you." _**HA! BURN!**_

"Shut up!"

* * *

Kendra Dumbledore and her daughter Ariana lay next to each other in the graveyard. The sun was setting into twilight, casting a reddish-orange glow on the gravestones.

_Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. _

_**Awww...That's so cheesy.**_ Murciélago cooed. _**Actually, that sounds like something Orihime would say. Except more muddled and confusing.**_

Ulquiorra spared the two graves a glance, noting that Muriel Weasely and Rita Skeeter, both annoying and gossiping, had been correct about this one thing. The Dumbledore's had lived in Godric's Hollow, and two had died there. Ulquiorra wondered why Dumbledore hadn't mentioned it since the mentor and...student(?) had both lived in the village once upon a time. However, Ulquiorra didn't mind too much. Family matters were something that didn't need to be shared.

_Unlike_ vital information on where Horcruxes were located.

* * *

"That's the mark from the book." Ulquiorra stated, surprised to see the Dark(?) and elusive symbol in a small graveyard on a crumbling ancient headstone. He turned to Grimmjow, who had knelt down to brush moss and dirt off the marker. "Who is it?" Grimmjow squinted at the eroded inscription. "Ignotus...something-that-begins-with-the-letter-P. Christ, this fucker is old." Ulquiorra shrugged, and continued among the graves, searching for the Potters. It wasn't at all relevant to the Voldemort mission, but Uluqiorra decided to take a personal detour. He hadn't had a past or family for a very long time, and then he only got one for about a year. Grimmjow got it, having had a big black void full of pain and hunger for a past as well.

Night crept on the two, causing wands to be whipped out of pockets to create dim light. "Found 'em." Grimmjow called, and Ulquiorra noticed that his parents were buried quite close to the Dumbledores. The Potters' graves were made of white marble, and stood out in the dark unlike the older tombs. He casts his wandlight on the gravestones.

_James Potter  
Born 27 March 1960  
__Died 31 October 1981 _

_Lily Potter  
Born 30 January 1960  
Died 31 October 1981_

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

"Wise words." Grimmjow said sagely in regards to the quotation on the grave. "Those guys are resilient fuckers." Ulquiorra nodded in agreement. "Their numbers do seem to never end." he admitted, as he conjured a lily and peony, placing the peony on James's grave and the lily on Lily's. If he remembered correctly, the peony stood for bravery and masculinity back in Japan. He would've put a Amaryllis, but it seemed a little inappropriate to call his father prideful (the closest thing he could find to cocky) through a flower on his grave. At least he subtly managed to convey that during his youth his father seemed to overcompensate his masculinity along with complimenting his bravery. The lily was white, for purity. He didn't choose it for any symbolic reason. He just thought it would be amusingly ironic if it turned out that Lily hated lilies. And what son would he be if he didn't put a lily on _Lily's_ grave? As a second thought, he added dark pink rose for gratitude.

"...Man, your parents must have had really sucky luck to die on Halloween."

"I thought that was obvious, them being _dead_ and all."

"Touché."

* * *

"...That's...unnecessary." Ulquiorra managed, staring at the preserved ruins of his childhood home. It was horribly maintained, having gone untouched for 16 years. There was even a sign explaining what the house was. It had _motivational graffiti_ on it for God's sake.

"Gee. Always the big man's favorite, aren't ya?"

"Shut up."

"First Aizen, now Dumbledore...man, creepy powerful men really like trying to use you for their own means, don't they?"

"..."

_**...Man, he's right. They really do. Do you think we radiate some type of vibe?**_

_I don't know, and I don't **want** to know._

* * *

"She smells dead." Grimmjow muttered, wrinkling his nose at the retreating Bathilda Bagshot as she led the two to her house. Ulquiorra agreed. "Her heartbeat doesn't sound human either." However, they continued to follow the short old lady to her home. It was dark, creepy, and musty. It also smelled unpleasantly of decaying flesh. The entire place sent warning bells blaring in the two Shinigami's(?) minds. Well, not warning bells per say...

_**Dear **_**Aizen****_, this place is evil! EVIL! You get the hell out of there Master! MASTER! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!_**

**Grimmjow Leroy Jean Jaggerjaques, you get out of this hellhole trap of doom right now! Grimmjow! Pay attention to me! _Grimmjow_!**

Grimmjow and Ulquiorra shared an irritated look, both seeming to know that the other's Zanpaktou was acting like an overprotective helicopter parent.

* * *

Ulquiorra stared at the tiny women, hunched over with age. She barely came to his shoulder. Her white hair was thinning and almost transparent, hinting at a wrinkled scalp. Her skin was covered in liver spots, the folds on her face giving her a droopy defeated appearance. Her knuckles almost seemed pale blue and the prominent veins were easily seen through paper thin skin. She appeared more corpse-like than he was comfortable with.

"Bathilda Bagshot?" He hesitantly asked. Her deathly appearance made him wonder if her ears were properly functioning. As well as her eyes, sense of smell, vocal cords, and circulatory system.

However, she nodded, giving a slight hint that she was alive. She stumbled past Grimmjow silently towards a sitting room as though he was part of the dank musty furniture. Grimmjow glared at her. "Seriously, man. She smells like death."

"Her body heat is abnormally low as well." Ulquiorra murmured back. "We should follow for now-"

"Come." Ulquiorra heard from the room the elderly woman entered. Grimmjow, for some reason, jumped and whipped out his wand, eyes darting around the room crazily.

"...What the hell are you doing?" Ulquiorra deadpanned. Grimmjow gaped at him.

And cuffed him on the head for good measure. So Ulquiorra stepped on his foot. Not very mature, but the bastard was asking for it.

After a few seconds of childishly (and like two girls bitch-fighting) scuffling, the settled down to huffing glares. "What the hell?" Ulquiorra hissed angrily. Grimmjow hissed right back. Of course, Grimmjow's hissing was like a pissy cat in water, while Ulquiorra's hissing was like an agitated bat in an American dance club.

"Didn't you hear that?" Grimmjow asked as he followed Ulquiorra reluctantly to the sitting room. "Hear what?" Ulquiorra asked.

"That noise!"

"How specific."

"The hissing! Like some type of snake!" Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow sharply. "A snake?"

"It seemed to come from the old bat." Ulquiorra frowned. Why on earth would Grimmjow hear a snake be making hissing noises near Bathilda? And why hadn't Ulquiorra heard it? All Ulquiorra heard was Bathilda asking him to follow her-

_**See? See! She's evil, I tell ya. EVIL!**_

Oh, Aizen.

* * *

After summoning their Zanpaktous, the two followed the snake(?) lady to the room. Ulquiorra immediately noticed the signs that Bathilda was no longer a frail and possibly crazy old witch. The room, for starters, smelled like rotting meat (or possibly a rotting body). An ridiculous amount of dust had collected on the curtains, floor, photographs, and everything else in the room. The real give away was that the silent creature was lighting the candles by hand, and failing quite epically at it as well. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and flicked his wand so the candles flared to life, while Ulquiorra flicked his wand, silently removing dust from the photos on the mantle.

Ulquiorra noticed that the largest and most ornate frames were missing their photos. _**Well, that's not suspicious at all. Hey, what's that one? **_Ulquiorra followed Murciélago mental indication and frowned at the photo of a merry-faced smiling blonde boy. His eyes widened fractionally as he recognized the teenager. Lately, he had been having flashes of Voldemort's dreams and thoughts (as usual). And most of those flashes, although brief and essentially useless, were of the boy in the photo. Ulquiorra knew he had a connection to Gregorovitch, since in one dream the kid had been perched on the wandmaker's windowsill.

* * *

"She wants me to go upstairs with her." Ulquiorra said to Grimmjow, translating the feeble gestures she(?) used instead of speech. He nodded to her and she turned away to hobble up rickety and unstable-looking stairs. Ulquiorra, keeping his eyes trained on the innocent looking lady, issued a command to the former panther before he followed.

"After we're out of sight, follow us. Keep your guard up and be ready to attack."

* * *

"...So...what do you want?" Ulquiorra asked, mostly to fill the silence, as Bagshot(?) stared at him solemnly. _**Those probably aren't even her own eyes. **_Murciélago scoffed. Ulquiorra's eyes could see in the pitch black, and moved back a step as she moved closer, indicating to the creature, whatever it was, that he could see her.

"You are Potter?" she hissed, and now that he was listening for it, he could hear the Parseltongue. He nodded and answered back in her native serpent language. "Technically." She closed her eyes and Ulquiorra heard Murciélago yelp in surprise.

_**Uh, Master? Voldequiorra's getting twitchy. He keeps muttering "Hold him!" and grinning like an idiot. ...It's clearly a trap.**_

_Thank you for that Murciélago._

_**It's what I'm here for. Or whatever.**_

Ulquiorra resisted rolling his eyes, albeit with fondness, at her sarcastic yet chipper quip. He tightened his grip on Murciélago's hilt. "Over here," she whispered, edging towards what looked like a heap of molding laundry. She pointed to it. "There." Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows at the obvious attempt to get him to turn his back to her. "Alright." He said, and slowly turned around. At the edge of his vision he saw her twitch madly, and he spun around, swiping his blade at the thick neck of Nagini as she emerged from the dead body of Bathilda Bagshot. She reared back, the Zanpaktou missing her by centimeters, hissing wildly. She clearly hadn't expected him to expect her trap. He slashed at her again, getting her to back away.

"_Did you think I was stupid?" _He snarled in the tongue of serpents. Switching to English, he called, "Grimmjow, now!" Grimmjow, in all his destructive glory, kicked the door down in a shower of door hinges and splinters, and stabbed expertly at the large snake's head.

She dodged. Well, she wasn't a Horcrux for nothing Ulquiorra supposed. The two slashed and stabbed at her neck and head, backing up the now frantic creature into a corner. Instinctively sensing Grimmjow, the panther, as a greater threat, she lunged at _his _neck, fangs extended for the kill. Grimmjow blocked easily with Pantera, but the beast caught the blade in her mouth. While the edges of her mouth were cut, she kept the opening clamped tight, preventing him from withdrawing his sword or moving. Grimmjow grunted irritably as he struggled with the glaring Nagini. "Goddamn snake! Kill it!" Ulquiorra raised his sword to deliver the finishing blow-

_**Voldemort's coming. **_Ulquiorra froze, arm high in preparation to cut the serpents head clean off. _**Just a head's up. He's pretty excited. **_

_Does he know we're about to kill Nagini?_

_**Nah. I decided to edit that bit out. I've incapacitated Voldiequiorra and completely blocked your thoughts and future location from Voldie. Hint hint. **_

_Well, he's about to. _Ulquiorra thought in regards to the plan of killing Voldemort's living Horcurx as he instead brought his arm down to cut deeply into the beasts eyes, blinding the creature much like Fawkes blinded the basilisk five years ago. Dark scarlet blood stained his sword (_Finally) _and the dusty ground as it spurted from Nagini's now useless eyes. The snake shrieked in pain, hissing wails of pain erupting from her mouth as she involuntarily released Pantera. Grimmjow jerked back and took a few steps away as Ulquiorra ran around the thrashing creature.

"Voldemort is coming." was all Ulquiorra said in explanation to the blonde Frenchman, who pouted at the unsuccessful kill. "Lame." he complained but regardless let Ulquiorra grab his forearm in anticipation for Apparation. Ulquiorra turned to Nagini, who was now glaring at their direction, head low and parallel to the ground, tongue flicking the stale air rapidly. Ulquiorra heard an object move against wood as Grimmjow fiddled with something.

"_Tell Voldemort I said Hi." _Ulquiorra mocked the snake quietly, an emotionless and serious look on his face as he Disapparated Grimmjow and himself the hell out of there.

* * *

_**Wow. He is **_**pissed.**

_How much?_

_**Immediately after finding the blind snake, he screamed in anger like a spoiled little girl and returned to his lair and killed at least nine totally unmemorable underlings. **_

_Oh. That's pretty upset._

_**He also is keeping her under lockdown in some magical cage and won't let her leave his sight anymore.**_

_...Swell._

* * *

"_The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_?" Ulquiorra read the title of the pristine and untouched book, Dumbledore's old wise face smiling up at him, spectacles twinkling. "Seriously?" Grimmjow shrugged. "It was in the snake lady's sitting room, and I was bored." Ulquiorra stared at him dubiously. "Thought I might have something useful since it's about the guy who sent you on this leadless death mission." Ulquiorra tilted his head curiously. "Fair enough." He flipped the book open, scanning the pages until he came upon a picture of the boy he had seen in the photograph at Bagshot's home.

"It's the boy who stole from Gregorovitch." Ulquiorra said surprised, and Grimmjow leaned over his shoulder to read the caption, already knowing the story behind the boy.

_Albus Dumbledore, shortly after his mother's death with his friend Gellert Grindelwald._

Ulquiorra's eyebrows shot up of their own accord. _**Holy Dark Wizards Batman!**_

Grimmjow snorted derisively. "Who the hell names their kid _Gellert?_"

* * *

"According to this, Grindelwald was Bagshot's great-nephew." Ulquiorra reported from the _The Greater Good's_chapter intro, "He was expelled at age 16 from Durmstrang-" Grimmjow grunted something that sounded oddly enough like "Figures", "-for 'twisted experiments'. Apparently, he became close to Dumbledore, whose mother had just died. They were both brilliant, and sent letters to each other when they were struck with ideas, even in the dead of night."

"...They sound kind of gay." Grimmjow cut in bluntly, and Ulquiorra stared at him. Re-read the paragraph of the book. Nodded. "They do, actually. Anyway, they-Oh, dear lord."

"What?" Grimmjow asked and Ulquiorra handed him the book. Grimmjow's eyebrows furrowed as he read aloud.

"_Gellert—_

_Your point about Wizard dominance being FOR THE MUGGLES' OWN GOOD—this, I think is the crucial point. Yes, we have been given power and yes, that power gives us the right to rule, but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled. We must stress this point, it will be the foundation stone upon which we build. Where we are opposed, as we surely will be, this must be the basis of all our counterarguments. We seize control FOR THE GREATER GOOD. And from this it follows that where we meet resistance, we must use only the force that is necessary and no more. (This was your mistake at Durmstrang! But I do not complain, because if you had not been expelled, we would never have met.)_

_Albus..._What the hell is this crap?" Grimmjow exclaimed furiously. He shoved the book back at the bat, still steaming. "And I don't know about Grindelwald, but Dumbledore is _so _gay for this guy."

Ulquiorra flipped to page 463, where it was said a copy of the original letter was. He analyzed the handwriting. It matched Albus Dumbledore's perfectly. Ulquiorra tilted his head and peered at the the signature. _Huh. The 'A' in Albus is replaced by that mark. That triangular mark in the Tales of Beetle Bard._

* * *

"The friendship between the two died with Ariana Dumbledore's death, according to the book." Ulquiorra continued, feeling disturbed at Dumbledore's (former) dictatorial and rather horrible view on Muggles. "Grindelwald left immediately after she died, and it implies that he killed the girl. Oh, and apparently Dumbledore's brother was the one to break his nose." Ulquiorra added with mild interest. "Dumbledore never saw Grindelwald again until their famous duel." He finished, closing the book. "Well. That's interesting." Grimmjow was looking at the tent ceiling in thought. "The Greater Good...The Greater Good... That was Grindelwald's slogan! It was carved into the entrance of Nurmengard."

"...Nurmengard?" Grimmjow stared at him surprised. "Didn't they teach history at Hogwarts?"

"It was taught by a ghost that made the students want to kill themselves. It was like Tousen rambling about justice. Except less interesting." Grimmjow looked a little sick at the mere thought.

"Oh. Well, Nurmengard was the prison he built to put his opponents I think. Ended up there, in the end."

* * *

"You go."

"_You _go."

"I hate water."

"So do I."

"I'm a _cat._"

"Tigers are cats and _they_ like water."

"I'm not Ggio!"

The two were in the Forest of Dean. November had just started, and Ulquiorra had apparated them there to plan their next move. He had never been, and neither had Grimmjow, but Ulquiorra remembered seeing it on a travel brochure during a trip to the grocery when he was younger. The Forest was consisted of thick trees, dark tangled undergrowth, and covered in a clean thick sheet of snow. As Grimmjow said, it looked like a "Goddamn fucking Christmas card". Anyway, earlier that night, Ulquiorra had seen a silver doe Patronus. After a 30 second staring contest, the doe moved her head to gesture that he follow and Ulquiorra, after getting Grimmjow, complied. The lovely doe led them through bushes and low-hanging tree branches (that hit them in the face at least twice) to a frozen pond and vanished. The two had stared at each other, wiped away the snow, than stared through the cracked black icy surface and spotted the gleaming sword of Gryffindor.

Which had led to their current argument.

"I'm not doing it." Ulquiorra said flatly as he pointed his wand towards the pond, silently breaking the ice. He didn't remove his gaze from his partner.

"And neither am I." Grimmjow snapped back, silently attempting to summon the sword, his line of vision not straying from his dark companion.

* * *

Serverus Snape, who was spying on the two from the safety of dark trees and bushes, stared at them as they bickered. _What the hell?_ He thought to himself as the two continued to argue. He had expected Potter to bring along Weasely and the Granger girl. Not the foreigner that strutted loudly into the Order's life a few years back.

_Seriously, what **is** this? _Snape continued to wonder, gaping from the shadows as Grimmjow(?) attempted to _push _Potter into the freezing water, who retaliated by kicking Grimmjow firmly and painfully in the stomach.

* * *

"I destroyed the last Horcrux!"

"I nearly died killing a basilisk to destroy the first one! When I was _twelve!"_

"I'm older!"

"That is just pathetic." Ulquiorra sighed, resting his head in his hand, the other hanging by his side gripping his wand. _Murciélago-?_

_**Not even if Hell froze over and you paid me.**_

"If I do it, I get to choose what we eat for dinner for the next month." Ulquiorra griped after a minute of tense and desperate (from the frantic brainstorming of ways to get out of it) silence. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed. "Week."

"Three weeks."

"Two weeks."

"Deal." Ulquiorra sighed, removing his clothes. "I hate you by the way."

"Meh."

* * *

The drenched bat tossed the damn sword onto the bank, and Grimmjow grabbed his arm and hauled him out of the freezing water, pointing his wand at him, immediately drying/warming him up so he didn't freeze to death. Ulquiorra shook his head of any remaining water, despite that there was none, habitually and huffily shoved his clothes back on. "That thing better be worth it."

"...It's not a Horcurx."

"Then why the hell did I go to so much effort to get the damn thing?!"

* * *

They decided to keep it around, in the end. Just in case.

That, and Grimmjow liked how shiny it was. Ulquiorra supposed somethings never changed.

* * *

The two climbed up the steep hill to the home of the Lovegoods. The pair had decided it was time to uncover the mystery behind the strange symbol that had been constantly popping up all of a sudden. After a month of deliberating what to do, they decided since they didn't have any major leads on a Horcurx, they should go on and find out what the hell the symbol meant. Although Murciélago _was_ doing her best to hack Voldemort's mind for more Horcurx locations.

_**It's all about planting fear. **_She explained sagely. **_If I get him paranoid that we were after Nagini because she's a Horcrux, which we were, then he'll start checking up on the rest, revealing the locations of the others._**

_That's... **brilliant.**_

_**I know-Why do you sound so surprised? **_Ulquiorra mentally smirked as she began to halfheartedly wail about his lack of faith. The effect was ruined by her giggling at the end of her rant.

It was mid-December, and Christmas break was upon the students of Hogwarts. Frost dusted the grass and weeds, crunching and cracking under the two's feet. Grimmjow stomped through the partially frozen grass, leaving large footprints in the ground, but Ulquiorra stepped with more grace. The sky overhead was a dishwater blue with pale gray clouds drifting along with the crisp winter wind.

Ulquiorra glanced towards the direction of the Burrow, which wasn't too far from the Lovegood residence. Grimmjow looked towards his line of vision and furrowed his brows. His left ear twitched uncomfortably with the same twinges of guilt Ulquiorra felt.

"It was for the best." Grimm said, his strong tone cracked with uncertainty. "Someone had to go back to that school of yours and look out for the kits-er, younger students." Ulquiorra was so lost in thought that he didn't even tease Grimmjow's use of the word 'kit' for the younger students of Hogwarts. "I suppose." he replied vaguely, turning away from the distant shape of the hedges and orchard concealing Burrow towards the direction of the Lovegood home. After some walking and apprehension, they faced the door of Luna's house. The two craned their necks upward to study the fittingly-odd house. It looked like a black rook from a chess set, with a moon hanging behind it, despite the pleasant afternoon.

"That's...expected." Grimmjow said in unsurprised disbelief. Ulquiorra nodded, not even batting an eye at the strange home. Grimmjow hadn't been as exposed to Luna's peculiarities as Ulquiorra had. He wasn't yet immune. "What did you expect after seeing the garden?" Ulquiorra asked dryly, knocking firmly on the door. Grimmjow glanced back towards the winding pathway up to the doorstep, retaking in the Snargaluff, crab apple tress, mistletoe, and a bunch of bushes containing orange radishes that reminded Ulquiorra of the earrings Luna liked to wear.

About ten seconds later, Xenophilius appeared after flinging the door open. Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow, and Ulquiorra inclined his head to the right by a barely noticeable centimeter. Remembering his vibrant, although spacey, appearance at the wedding, Ulquiorra wondered what had happened. His white-blonde hair was in disarray, his nightshirt had multiple stains, and his face was haggard with shadows under his eyes. It appeared that he hadn't shaved in a while either. He was also barefoot.

"What? Who is it? What do you want?" The frazzled man glanced between the two boys wildly, his voice shaky and drenched with nervousness.

"Erm," Ulquiorra started, thrown by the sheer lack of Luna in the man. "My name is Harry Potter." Xenophilius's head snapped to him, his mouth dropping in a perfect O of shock. Ulquiorra mentally rolled his eyes (Murciélago chose the less mature route and stuck her long tongue out at the man within their mindscape) as eyes flickered up to his forehead for the trademark lightning bolt. His hair covered it now that it had calmed down last year, but for the sake of time, he slipped a hand out of his pocket and moved it out of the way. The scar was tinged white in the cold air.

"I would like to speak with you about something. If I may," Ulquiorra side-stepped the flabbergasted wizard and entered the residence with ease, Grimmjow following, neck craning from looking around the strange house. "Did I just enter a giant pot?" Grimmjow uttered under his breath in puzzlement in regards to the kitchen the two entered. The walls were curved like the two were standing inside a humungous teapot, except without the spout or handle. There was a iron spiraling staircase in the middle of the room that lead to the second floor. Everything, including the sink and cupboards, were curved and made to fit the walls and everything was covered in bright paintings of insects, birds, and flowers. It reminded Ulquiorra of Orihime and Luna, since the two were very similar. Ulquiorra would later think that they were two sides of the same coin; Luna was cooler, more nonchalant and laid back with her dreamy air and crazy thoughts. Orihime, on the other hand, was louder, more energetic and seemed more solid with her fantastic daydreams. It was like comparing a dragonfly to a firefly.

And Ulquiorra was like a moth, drawn to the light that Orihime radiated to the point of fatality.

* * *

The two were taken upstairs by a very disgruntled Xenophilius. They climbed up the spiraling stairs to another circular room that was obviously some type of workshop. Ulquiorra deducted that this was where _The Quibbler _was printed when he spotted the magically engineered (and outdated) printing press.

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes when Grimmjow raised his pointer finger level to his temple and made the 'Crraaaaazzyyy' motion in regards to Xenophilius when he pulled a tablecloth, causing books and papers to topple and fly to the ground, from a worktable to drape over the press.

"Now, why are you here?" Ulquiorra had moved to the wall and was examining a strange and rather dangerous artifact on the wall. "You have an Erumpent horn on your wall." he said matter-of-factly. "That's very explosive." he frowned, still examining the swirled markings at the base. "Why do you have an Erumpent horn on your wall?" His eyebrow twitched in irritation as Grimmjow used his height advantage and pushed him down so the panther could study the horn, using Ulquiorra's head as an armrest. Ulquiorra's hand twitched towards his wand when Xenophilius huffed petulantly, causing both Grimmjow and Ulquiorra to turn towards him.

Not that the bastard stopped using him as an armrest. Murciélago thought it was hilarious. Figures.

"That, Mr. Potter, is the horn of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack." Xenophilius huffed, causing Ulquiorra to blink and Grimmjow to gape. Grimmjow's arm, in shock of the stupidity(?), slid off Ulquiorra's head slowly. Ulquiorra, who had some immunity to the Lovegood loonies, elbowed him harshly in the ribs. This elicited a strong stream of French cursing from the blonde.

"...If you're anything like Luna, I doubt I will be able to persuade you." Ulquiorra said finally, tearing his eyes away from the potential death trap. "I would recommend getting rid of it, just the same. I was wondering where Luna was, actually." Ulquiorra noticed that Xenophilius tensed and became even more jittery than before. It wasn't reassuring. "Hogwarts's Christmas break started already. Although there is..._new management,_" Ulquiorra put bitter emphasis on 'new management', "the scheduling should not have changed."

"Luna is down at the stream, fishing for Freshwater Plimpies." Lovegood cut in hastily, his voice shaking. He gulped nervously, eyes darting between our two protagonists. "She . . . she will like to see you. I'll go and call her and then—very well. I shall try to help you." He quickly left the room down the stairs.

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow watched his back until it had disappeared and they heard the faint slamming of a door on the floor below. They looked at each other.

"...Make this a quick visit?"

"Seems like the best idea."

* * *

"The hell is that?" Grimmjow asked incredulously at the bust of a woman. The bust itself was perfectly normal. It was what was on her head that baffled the two. It was adorned with what looked like golden _ear _trumpets, tiny glittering blue wings that looked like it came straight out of the Muggle Disney movie _Peter Pan_, and one of the infamous orange radishes topping it off.

"_Cher Dieu, c'est affreux (Dear God, that's hideous)." _Grimmjow voice breathed, like he was in sheer awe of the lack of aesthetic appeal. Ulquiorra looked at him strangely, but didn't say anything. It was pretty horrible.

* * *

"Ah, you have spotted my pet invention," Xenophilius said, shoving a tea tray into Grimmjow's arms and turning to face the statue with Ulquiorra. "Modeled, fittingly enough, upon the head of the beautiful Rowena Ravenclaw. '_Wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure!_'"

Murciélago metaphorically sweatdropped. _**Ugh.**_

* * *

"The Deathly Hallows?"

"That's right," said Xenophilius. "You haven't heard of them? I'm not surprised. Very, very few wizards believe. Witness that knuckle-headed young man at that Weasely boy's wedding who attacked me for sporting the symbol of a well-known Dark wizard!"

Ulquiorra turned his head towards Grimmjow and muttered, "I thought I stopped Krum from attacking him." Grimmjow shrugged. "I think he went back when you were being suckered in by the Dode guy."

"Doge"

"Whatever."

"-Such ignorance." Xenophilius continued, either oblivious to the conversation or expertly ignoring it. "There is nothing Dark about the Hallows—at least, not in that crude sense. One simply uses the symbol to reveal oneself to other believers, in the hope that they might help one with the Quest."

"...The...Quest?"

"To find all of the Deathly Hallows, of course." Xenophilius took a sip of the rather disgusting looking tea he had brought up and said this as if he were stating the weather. Ulquiorra sighed. "And the Deathly Hallows _are?_"

"You are familiar with the 'Tale of the Three Brothers' right?" Ulquiorra blinked. "...No."

"Yes." Grimmjow chimed in at the exact same time, and Grimmjow blinked confusedly when Ulquiorra stared at him with raised eyebrows. "What? It's a fairy tale. Everybody knows it."

"Raised by Muggles, Grimmjow."

"Oh. Right. Uh, actually." Grimmjow slung his rucksack from his shoulder and rummaged through it, "It's this." he finally pulled out the battered book of _The Tales of Beetle Bard._ "I don't read runes, so I can't translate directly, but I got the gist."

"So, what is it?"

"So, there are three brothers walking along some creepy road at midnight. Why, I have no idea. Maybe they were drunk, but anyway. They came across a river that they couldn't walk across nor swim across. So, being wizards and all, they just make a bridge. And Death appears in the middle of the bridge, cuz' he's pissed that he didn't get to kill them like the rest of the suckers that die crossing the river. But Death had a plan, and congratulates them. He offers each of them a gift as a reward for escaping him. The eldest one asks for an unbeatable wand. So Death finds an elder tree and make a wand from one of the branches. He gives it to the oldest one. The second brother was an arrogant douche, so in order to humiliate Death even further-"

"Well, that's smart."

"-_Right_? Anyway, he asks for the power to recall people from Death. So Death picks up a pebble from the riverbank and gives it to the second brother, saying it had the power to bring back the dead. The youngest one, who was the only one smart enough to realize Death was screwing with them, asks for something that would allow him to be undetected by Death. So Death gives him his Cloak of Invisibility."

"Invisibility Cloak?" Ulquiorra asked sharply, thinking of his own in his bag. Grimmjow's eyes glinted knowingly. "Yeah. So the three brothers have their gifts and go on their merry way. The first one goes to a bar or something, and picks a fight with some guy whom he kills with the Elder Wand. It's called the Elder Wand right?" Grimmjow muttered the last sentence to himself, before shaking his head and continuing. "So, he wins, goes to an inn, and brags about great his wand is since he got it from Death. Naturally, when he's sleeping, some other guy sneaks into his room, steals it and kills him. And Death takes him, like planned.

The second brother, who'll you'll be able to relate to, goes home and using the stone, summons the girl he wanted to marry who died before the wedding. However, she was dead and still tied to the spirit world, and was unhappy in the World of the Living since, well, she was _dead._ The second brother goes crazy and kills himself. Death takes him too, as planned.

The third brother, however, is able to evade Death for the remainder of the life thanks to the Cloak. Death looks for him and all, but he can't find him. Finally, when the third brother is an old man, he passes the Cloak to his son, and goes with Death as his equal."

* * *

"The Deathly Hallows." Xenophilius said, putting down his tea and getting a piece of paper and a quill. "The Elder Wand-" he drew a vertical line, "-The Resurrection Stone-" he drew a circle, the edge of the shape touching the bottom of the 'wand', but didn't encase the entire line. "-and the Invisibility Cloak." He drew a triangle that surrounded the other markings, finishing the elusive and mysterious symbol that had been stalking Ulquiorra and Grimmjow for the last four months. "Together, they are the Deathly Hallows. Whomever possesses all three will become the Master of Death."

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow paled.

That...didn't sound good. Especially knowing their..._associates_.

* * *

"It is believed by Questers-"

"'Quester' isn't a word, Mr. Lovegood-"

"-that the Peverell brothers were the original owners of the Hallows. Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus." Xenophilius picked up the tea tray with his empty cup (and Ulquiorra and Grimmjow's full ones) and carried it downstairs, his voice drifting behind him. "Stay for dinner won't you? We're famous for our freshwater Plimpy soup!" Grimmjow turned vaguely green and shuddered.

"Eurgh. So, this whole Hallow thing. Whaddya think?" Ulquiorra shrugged. "We've seen weirder things." Ulquiorra admitted. "It's not such a hard thing to believe. We know that Death, while not a single person, essentially exists."

"We know that spirits _can _travel and linger in the World of the Living, although not with ease unless they have high reitsu." Grimmjow continued thoughtfully. "Not to mention your cloak. I hadn't really thought about, but retelling that story made me realize your Invisibility Cloak isn't like others."

"It's not?"

"No...other cloaks are just regular cloaks with Disillusionment Charms. They fade and become opaque over time. And they can get scratched or damaged. Yours is still in perfect condition."

"It also used to belong to my father, so it's not new or anything either." Ulquiorra murmured, leaning against the printing press, chin in hand. "It could be possible that it's the real one from the tale. But are the Deathly Hallows really important right now? Why did Dumbledore want us to learn about them? What is the significance in relation to the Horcruxes?"

"Lovegood mentioned 'Master of Death'." Grimmjow said slowly, "That sounds like something Voldemort-"

And that's when everything went to hell.

* * *

The sharp cracks of Apparation sounded in the press room, and Ulquiorra and Grimmjow whipped out their wands to point and their wizard opponents pointing their wands at _them_. They stared each other down, before the other chuckled. It was Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf Death Eater who bought his way into Voldemort's forces through hired savagery. Ulquiorra knew that not many of the (important) Death Eaters (except Malfoy and some guys who luckily weren't here) knew Grimmjow, especially with the recent blue eye markings he got when he and Ulquiorra got their tattoos the last two summers ago. Ulquiorra knew he would be the problem. While the only Death Eaters that had seen him without his glasses and with his tattoos were _really _Snape and Malfoy (and Voldemort), he still wasn't sure if he would be able to get away unrecognized.

Grimmjow hissed at Greyback, his lips drawing back into a snarl. His shoulders tensed and rose a fraction. Ulquiorra suddenly realized he was acting like a cornered cat, back arched, fur puffed, and hissing, in the face of a dog. Greyback himself was growling at Grimmjow, but was grinning wildly, like he was looking at his next meal. Or plaything.

"Well, well. Who do we have here?" Greyback panted, still grinning. Ulquiorra wrinkled his nose. He could smell the blood, dirt and sweat from across the room. He pitied Grimmjow, whose sense of smell was much sharper than Ulquiorra's. "You broke the Taboo." Grimmjow and Ulquiorra shared a sideways glance, wands still pointed. "Taboo?" Grimmjow finally asked. Greyback howled with laughter. "That's rich! They don't know about the Taboo on the Dark Lord's name! Ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"...No." Ulquiorra lied. Greyback licked his lips eagerly, causing Ulquiorra to lean back, despite there being an entire room between them. "The Order doesn't show the proper respect to the Dark Lord," the werewolf rasped giddily, "so we cursed the name. Anyone who says the Dark Lord's name is tracked down immediately. Caught us a few little birdies already."

* * *

"I'm Ulquiorra Schiffer." Ulquiorra said tonelessly, using his real name as an alias. Grimmjow followed his lead, with a few variations. "I'm Grimmjow...Inoue." Grimmjow's face morphed into an apologetic/disgusted grimace, which he directed at Ulquiorra who glared at him with fire and death in his eyes.

"What house you in at Hogwarts, Sch-Sch-er, you." Greyback pointed to Ulquiorra with his wand, unable to pronounce his last name, to Ulquiorra's ire. "I didn't go to Hogwarts." Ulquiorra lied frostily. "Grimmjow and I are from Germany-" _**Germany?!**_

_It was the first country that popped into my head, alright?_

"-and we were taking our Apparation test. We missed the mark by a long while apparently." Ulquiorra finished coolly. Grimmjow, catching on, scoffed. "Seriously, how the hell did you get us here?" He glared at Ulquiorra. "We were supposed to end up in Munich _a__rschloch_!" Ulquiorra blinked at Grimmjow, wondering why he knew the German word for 'asshole', but figured that this _was_ Grimmjow. "Well, maybe if you hadn't hit on those girls while I was concentrating, we would _be _in Munich _d__ummkopf_."

Judging from the slackening faces of their enemies, Ulquiorra's fib about being from Germany was working, despite that were caught by saying an British Dark Wizard's name. The Snatchers were luckily not the brightest in the box.

It probably would've _continued_ working if Lovegood hadn't come back at that moment with two _actual _Death Eaters grinning about how they caught Harry Potter.

Bastard.

* * *

It was an epic fight. It really was.

Bright side: Ulquiorra and Grimmjow got rid of the Death Eaters.

Down side: They were captured by the 'Snatchers' instead.

* * *

The Snatchers took the two, now bound and wandless, to the Malfoy Manor. Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had completely beat the two Death Eaters, Rowle and Dolohov, by cursing them both so hard they fell down the spiral staircase. Ulquiorra had heard at least one unpleasant snapping noise, and thus entertained the possibility one of them may have been killed in the fight. Lovegood had followed them down the stairs frantically, wailing about Luna. Ulquiorra figured Luna had been taken and that's why Lovegood called the Death Eaters on them. Eh, alright. He'd sell Lovegood out in a heartbeat for Orihime, so Ulquiorra supposed he would forgive him.

Judging from Grimmjow's screams of how he was a fucking bastard, Ulquiorra guessed Grimmjow hadn't reached the same empathy.

Anyway, with the two Death Eaters useless and possibly dead, the Snatchers (none bearing the Dark Mark) had to take them to the nearest Death Eater base. AKA the Malfoys'.

Ulquiorra was on his knees, along with Grimmjow, glaring up at Narcissa Malfoy as she gasped at the two. "Yes, that's him! That's Potter! I know him from Madam Malkin's that one time! It's Potter, isn't it Draco?" Draco Malfoy, still pale and pointy faced, barely glanced at the two, his face filled with fear and reluctance. "I dunno. Maybe." was all he said as he moved back towards the fireplace. Narcissa, unfortunately, was certain(ly correct) that Ulquiorra was the real deal. "Lucius!" she called desperately for her husband, "Lucius! Come quickly! We've caught Potter! Call the Dark Lord!"

The head of the Malfoy family came bursting in, a vicious smile on his face that slid off when he spotted Ulquiorra. "Ah, Narcissa." He said in the usual cold drawl, which, Ulquiorra admitted, was rather gentle when addressing his wife, "Dear. Are you sure that's Potter?" Narcissa nodded impatiently. "I'm positive Lucius. Call-"

"Cissy?" A new voice echoed in the room as another walked in. "Cissy, what's wrong? I heard yelling."

"Well, this is just swell." Grimmjow muttered as they faced all three Malfoys, Bellatrix Lestrange, and three Snatchers, including Fenrir Greyback, bound on the floor and wandless.

Ulquiorra couldn't help but agree.

* * *

The two sat there in front of the group of Death Eaters, irritation coming of them in waves as the Death Eaters bickered and debated on whether or not Ulquiorra was Harry Potter.

Fifteen minutes later, and they were _still _debating. "Just give him a truth potion or something!" Greyback finally shouted out, irritated with the lack of initiative, prey, or food (aka, whomever was the poor bastard that got stuck with him). Ulquiorra and Grimmjow glared at him. "_Chien sale (__Filthy Dog)"_ Grimmjow muttered at him, causing the Malfoy family to look at him strangely.

"Was...that French?"

"You said you were German!"

"Well, obviously I lied!" Ulquiorra snapped back at the betrayed sounding accusation thrown at him by Greyback. "Honestly, why would I tell the truth in that situation? Morons, the lot of you."The Malfoys and Lestrange looked at him, eager glints (excluding Draco) in their eyes. _Crap. _"Well, this couldn't be much worse." Ulquiorra griped in irritation. Grimmjow shook his head in mock condensation. "It could always be much worse. We could be total idiots who don't even know what's going on. Or Muggle-borns." He added as afterthought. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. "Are all Purebloods crazy, or am I just an unfortunate bastard that only encounters the insane ones?" He snapped at Grimmjow, who glowered. "I ain't crazy!"

"I beg to differ."

"I'LL KILL YOU-"

"SHUT UP!" Bellatrix screamed shrilly, causing the two to shut up. She turned to Grimmjow, with a slightly warmer aura. Granted, it warmed from Arctic glacier to a slightly more southern glacier, but it was progress. "You're a Pureblood?"

"Yeah. Why is that so important in Britain anyway?" Grimmjow wondered, making Ulquiorra wish he could face palm. Bellatrix turned her nose up at him, eliciting an indignant snarl from Grimmjow. "So, a blood traitor then."

"I'm not even British! How am I blood traitor if I'm not even from this hell of a country?!"

"You just are. Get over it." Ulquiorra hissed through gritted teeth. _Don't kill him, Ulquiorra. Think of Orihime..._

Oh. Wow, that actually really helped.

"Search their bags!" Narcissa said shakily. "To check." The Snatchers did what they were told, eyebrows raised at the sheer amount of stuff they managed to have in there thanks to the charms they cast.

"Hmmm...clothes, shoes, toothbrush..." Ulquiorra and Grimmjow shared a long suffering sigh.

"...tent, rune dictionary..." _**...Are they just listing off every item you have in there...?**_

_Apparently._

_**...Wow.**_

"...photo album of-wow, that girl has _huge_ breasts." Ulquiorra's eyebrow twitched angrily.

"Well, doesn't she look delicious." Greyback growled, a lustful smile on his face. The twitching wasn't just twitching anymore. Now Ulquiorra's entire face was contorted in disgust and anger. "I bet she'd be a scrumptious meal-"

"Finish that sentence and I swear to God I'll find a way to kill you in the most horrible way possible." Ulquiorra snarled, his voice so dark and angry it caused everyone except Grimmjow to flinch in shock. "And believe me. I know a lot of ways." The Snatcher feebly closed the album and opened the second while another Snatcher began searching through Grimmjow's bag. "Uh, an old book, toilet paper, shaving kits, sword-"

"WHAT?!" Bellatrix shrieked to everyone's surprise and everyone in the room winced at the pain in their eardrums. Especially Ulquiorra and Murciélago, who was trembling in shocked agony, hands over her ears. _**Dear AIZEN! **_"SWORD! WHAT SWORD?!" She seemed to recoil in terror as the Snatcher confusedly pulled out Gryffindor's sword out of Grimmjow's bag, a greedy gleam in his eyes as he spotted the ruby hilt.

* * *

_**Well. **_Murciélago said numbly. **_That's an overreaction. _**Ulquiorra had to agree that madly stunning the three Snatchers in an insane fit of rage(?) to get _Gryffindor's _sword was an overreaction. She turned to him and shoved her wand into his neck angrily. _Ow._ He thought as he glared huffily into her frantic dark eyes. "Ow." he said pointedly to her, eyes flickering to her wand and back to make his point. She only pushed it further into his neck. His shoulders tensed in pain when a few angry sparks burned his skin, but had no further visible reaction.

"This sword," Lestrange panted, waving the heavy sword feebly with her non-wand hand, "Where did you get it?" Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows. "...Why does that matter?" he asked incredulously. "It's _Gryffindor's _sword."

"Snape gave me that sword! It's in my vault at Gringotts! _Where did you get it?!_" Ulquiorra blinked. "I bought it."

"_Excuse me?_"

"I bought it." Ulquiorra repeated, Murciélago feeding him the lies to hopefully get him and Grimmjow out alive. "It's just a copy. I found it sentimental." Bellatrix breathed heavily in his face, wand still digging into his skin. Ulquiorra fidgeted uncomfortably. Grimmjow glanced at the two awkwardly.

"He's lying." Bellatrix breathed panicked. Ulquiorra cursed mentally to Murciélago. _Our defenses are up aren't they?_

_**Yeah. They're as solid as ever. I've even put Voldiequiorra in cage, bound and gagged and everything.**_

**MPHFFFF!**

_**See? She's just grabbing at straws.**_

Ulquiorra tuned back to the conversation when he was jerked back up to standing along with Grimmjow and was shoved towards a door. Lucius was talking about a goblin and demanding that Draco take them to the cellar. Draco shakily complied, forcing them at (rather terrible) wandpoint to the cellar, which they calmly walked into. As Draco demanded the goblin, Griphook, Grimmjow hissed something to him in French.

Griphook acknowledged the message with a twitch of his ears and a split-second glance towards the Frenchman, before walking off with Grimmjow. Ulquiorra turned to his partner in the darkness. "What did you say? And did he even understand you?" Grimmjow shrugged. "He's a goblin. They know pretty much every language if the country's important enough, because they handle all the money. He _should_ know French. I and told him to tell those Death Eaters it's a copy. Worth a shot at any rate."

"Harry? Is that you?" Ulquiorra blinked away from Grimmjow and was able to recognize her voice instantly, the almost pitch black not a problem in identifying who was speaking..

"Luna?"

* * *

"Hello Harry," Luna said dreamily. "Oh, I was hoping that you wouldn't get caught." There was some shuffling and someone appeared behind Luna. "Harry?" Ulquiorra once again recognized the voice.

"Hello Dean." Ulquiorra nodded cordially in his direction. "Could either one of you possibly free us? It would be appreciated."

"Oh yes. We have a nail we use to break things...Mr. Ollivander? Where's the nail? Do you have it? I think it was by the water jug." There was some shuffling and Luna returned, presumably holding the tool to free them.

"Now hold still, I can't really see what I'm doing." Grimmjow's head snapped up. "The Deluminator! It's in my pocket. I think it still has some light in it." Ulquiorra really hated that device, mostly because Grimmjow _loved_ to play with it, turning the lights on and off as he pleased in their tent like a giddy little school boy. However, Ulquiorra was grateful of Grimmjow's obsession with the stupid thing. Just this once.

Luna reached into Grimmjow's pocket rather boldly, either ignoring or entirely missing Grimmjow's teasing leer, and clicked the Deluminator. A single orb of light shot out and hovered in the dingy cellar, illuminating the gaunt, white faced trio of Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, and Mr. Ollivander. Dean and Luna gazed at Ulquiorra (and Grimmjow) with some awe (Dean) and faint joy/concern (Luna). Mr. Ollivander was curled motionless in the corner, not even registering their arrival.

Ulquiorra rolled his shoulders as his bound arms were freed, and Grimmjow likewise raised his arms in a luxurious stretch. "Much better." Grimmjow purred happily, drawing a puzzled but content smile from Luna. "You're welcome." She said distantly, looking over his shoulder quizzically. "I don't wish to alarm you, but there's a blue panther standing behind you. He looks rather nice, although a smidge frighting." She continued blithely, oblivious to the two Shinigami(?) whipping around to look behind them for Pantera. They saw nothing, and turned back to see Luna drifting over to Mr. Ollivander to return the oh-so-important-nail. "Here you are, Mr. Ollivander." She said kindly, not noticing the gaping face of Grimmjow and wide eyes of Ulquiorra. Sure, Luna had always been odd, but this took the cake. Or whatever that saying was.

"...Blue...Panther?" Grimmjow asked weakly. Luna stared at him with big shiny eyes and smiled. "Yes. He's rather handsome." she tilted her head. "His ears are nice. Very shiny teeth." Grimmjow flushed. "Uh..."

Ulquiorra felt an unpleasant prickling feeling of foreboding watching the two interact, but ignored it for the more pressing matter of their escape.

"Alright...I think I have a plan."

* * *

Murciélago grumbled to herself irritably. Why did _she _have to be the one to do this?

I mean, sure, Pantera's animal form was a bright blue panther, but still! Not fair.

Murciélago creeped along the rafters of the drawing room as a tiny bat, watching as Griphook the goblin studied the sword of Gryffindor. She crept past them all as Griphook ran a hand over the blade and and searched for Ulquiorra and Grimmjow's wands. She wished her eyesight wasn't so crappy, it would make this mission a lot easier. Sure she could see perfectly in the dark, but only when there was sound. Even just a drip of water, but with the Death Eater's baited breath and the goblin's silent contemplation, she didn't have much to go on.

"Hmmm...nice, very nice." Griphook murmured. Murciélago huffed. _Finally! _Using the sound waves cast by his voice, her sonar quickly bounced across every inch of the room.

_There they are! _Murciélago mentally squealed. _Hey Master! I found them! They're in the Snatchers' pockets!_

_**Why weren't they removed?**_

_They were probably too distracted by the sword to remember to retrieve them. But I'm on it!_

_**Good luck.**_

Grinning happily, Murciélago carefully swooped down to the Snatchers and crouched behind one of their unconscious bodies. Her tiny form was easily hid from the Death Eater's view, not that they were paying any attention to her.

"It's very well made...for a _wizard _creation." Griphook continued, scoffing at the word wizard. Murciélago smiled widely, showing tiny little white teeth , before grabbing Grimmjow's wand in her mouth like a dog with a bone and staggering slightly, eyes watering in pain as her mouth was stretched to it's limits to carry the damn thing. _ARGH. This sucks. _She thought grumpily, edging to the second Snatcher and pulling out Ulquiorra's wand with a miniscule hand. She grabbed her Master's wand with her feet (which was much easier and more comfortable) and clumsily shot up to the rafters. It was hard getting up to the safety of the shadows with Grimmjow's wand crammed in her mouth. It set off the balance of her flight, making her sway in the air like a drunkard.

"Was that a bat?" Draco Malfoy, that little blonde brat she hated, asked startled, seeing the awkward movement of her lopsided flight.

"What was that Draco?" Narcissa, his mother if Murciélago recalled correctly, which she most certainly did, asked absentmindedly as she watched her sister pant with giddy relief. Draco eyed the direction and general area where Murciélago rested, before averting his eyes. "N-Nothing Mother. A trick of the light or something."

Well. That was interesting. And with that thought, she promptly disappeared with the two wands to reappear in the Inner World of her Master, just as Bellatrix laughed insanely with triumph and pressed her forefinger to the Dark Mark, summoning the Dark Lord.

* * *

Ulquiorra met Murciélago in the caverns of his mind as she materialized in her bat body with his wand clutched in her feet and Grimmjow's in...her mouth. He would be sure to tell him how his Zanpaktou decided to carry his wand, he thought with a smirk. Now he at least understood why he heard her yelp and gripe in pain a few minutes back. Spitting Grimmjow's wand on the ground and releasing his own, she returned to normal humanoid form and handed the two wands to Ulquiorra. "Here ya go." She said cheerfully. "Griphook covered for you guys by the way. And Bellatrix called Voldemort, so hurry up." She said this all very brightly, happy with her success. She hadn't really gotten over her last failure in her small stature; the Malfoy espionage fiasco. Ulquiorra could feel the feeling of redemption coming from her in waves, having made up for the past. Ulquiorra had never really blamed her for that, she had gotten the information they needed (and even than, he wouldn't have been too angry), but she was much like him, and took failure hard.

"Alright." he murmured as he accepted the two wands. "Wish us luck." He smirked dryly as he faded out of his world into reality.

"Good luck~!"

* * *

Ulquiorra opened his eyes and stood up from his lotus position, handing Grimmjow his wand. "Voldemort is coming," Ulquiorra said brusquely, unlocking the door with his wand and leading them out of the cellar after he checked the hallway. "Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander, apparate to Luna's house. It's probably abandoned now. Stay there for one hour. If we don't return by then, go to somewhere safe. Or run. Once we meet you there, we'll discuss a safe place to go."

"We want to help you Harry." Luna whispered, and Grimmjow coughed. "You're wandless." He muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "It's best to get somewhere safe." Huh. That horrible feeling of dread suddenly came back when Grimmjow started talking to Luna. Weird. Ulquiorra shook it off. "Go. Now." Luna sighed and grabbed Dean and Mr. Ollivander's hands and disappeared with a sharp _crack_.

* * *

"Voldemort is far away," Ulquiorra said as they ran down the hall to the drawing room, wand ready. They had already run into Wormtail.

It...hadn't ended well.

Wormtail had attempted to stop and most likely kill them (or at least Grimmjow). Ulquiorra, in order to save time, had reminded the rat bastard that he had saved his life and that the man owed him. Wormtail had shown an involuntary brief twitch of mercy, and as punishment, his new solid silver hand that Voldemort had presented him with turned on its owner and strangled him to death.

Not wanting to watch him suffocate, and being pressed for time, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow ran ahead, leaving him to die.

"Luckily, that buys us some time." Ulquiorra continued, rounding a corner, Grimmjow at his side. Grimmjow looked at him, still running.

"How much time?" Ulquiorra's eyes flickered upward briefly in thought.

"...10...15 minutes?"

"Great."

* * *

Ulquiorra kicked open the door and slashed his wand towards Lucius Malfoy, "Serpensortia!" A large King Cobra shot from his wand and was flung at Malfoy, immediately wrapping around his wand arm. "_Bite him._" Ulquiorra hissed to the serpent, as he shot a curse at Narcissa, catching her off guard and slamming her into the opposite wall so hard so slumped to the ground knocked out cold. The cobra happily tried quite hard to oblige, aiming its sharp fangs at Malfoy's arm, who shook his arm desperately, screaming, in attempt to dislodge it. The snake clung on, however, and continued its efforts to bite the man and effectively distracted the Death Eater from attacking Ulquiorra. He then turned an countered a curse sent by Malfoy. "How dare you attack my mother Potter!" he shrieked furiously, shooting continuous curses at the Boy Who Lived.

"You are such a_ Mama's boy._" Ulquiorra snapped back, hitting Draco with a Jelly-Fingers Curse, causing the boy to fumble with his wand and allowing Ulquiorra to smack him in the chest with a Stunner in a flash of red light. Ulquiorra turned to see Grimmjow having an epic duel with Lestrange.

He was disturbed how insane they both looked.

The two cursed, and countered, and hexed and jinxed and dodged each other's attacks in an extremely violent and agitated dance.

"Won't you just die already?!" Bellatrix screamed angrily, the stress of Voldemort's impending arrival (Ulquiorra's scar was prickling insistently) and fear of letting the two escape robbing her of her twisted battle banter.

"I could ask you the same thing, bitch!" Grimmjow roared back, attempting to hit her with a Leg-Locker curse, which she blocked. Seeing that the two were preoccupied, Ulquiorra inched his way to their packs and shouldered the both of them, after checking that everything was still there. He watched the two battle for a moment, when Murciélago screamed at him to hurry up. Grabbing Griphook's arm, who had been cowering in the corner with Gryffindor's sword, he dashed towards Grimmjow.

He had never done this before, but he needed something to throw her off guard.

"Crucio." He barked, his wand aimed at Bellatrix. It was weak, and didn't painfully torture, but merely threw her several feet away and onto her back, where she barely twitched in pain. However, it had her surprised like planned. He doubted she expected him to play dirty when he was one of the 'Good Guys'. He grabbed Grimmjow and Disapparated, taking Grimmjow, Griphook, and himself, along with their two bags and the sword of Gryffindor, back to the Lovegood residence just as Voldemort's appeared in the drawing room. Their hasty exit was haunted by his high screams of fury at another failed attempt to catch him.

As they landed in front of the Lovegood residence, now heavily damaged from their fight hours before, all Ulquiorra and Murciélago could simultaneously think was, _**Sucker.**_

* * *

Ulquiorra rummaged through his bag as he felt the now familiar twinges of suspicion and bottomless fear as he listened to Grimmjow and Luna chat, while Dean hung out with Ollivander and the goblin. Finally finding the two-way-mirror, he hastily wiped the dirty surface with his sleeve. He hadn't been sure about taking it with him, but in the end decided to in case of an emergency.

"Sirius Black." He said firmly to the mirror, watching with interest as white fog suddenly swirled in the glass much like a crystal ball. After a minute or two, the smoke cleared to reveal the tired, but fortunately well-kept and healthy face of Sirius Black. The former fugitive blinked in confusion before grinning so wide it looked like the smile would break off his face. "Harry!" Sirius exclaimed. "You're alright!" Ulquiorra smiled faintly. "Hello Sirius. How are things?" Sirius shrugged. "We're on the constant move. Pretty much all of us except for Bill are on the run."

"...How are Ron and Hermione?" Ulquiorra asked quietly, and Sirius's face turned awkward and gloomy. "They're with the Weaselys. They'll be returning to Hogwarts soon, Hermione in disguise, naturally." He said darkly. Ulquiorra frowned. "How _is_ Hogwarts?"

"It's bad," came the grim reply. "Snape is Headmaster, and a couple of Death Eaters are the new DADA professors. Ron, Hermione, Neville and a bunch of other Gyrffindors are resisting, but it's hard."

"I see." Ulquiorra paused. "...How... mad are they?"

"Absolutely furious." Sirius admitted. "They're still upset and feel betrayed."

"I told them they weren't going to come." Ulquiorra defended weakly. Sirius shrugged. "Well, I guess they thought you changed your mind or didn't mean it."

"It's for the best." Ulquiorra decided. "Hogwarts needs defending from the inside. The younger students need protection." Sirius grinned weakly. "Anyway, Sirius, I need a safe location to stay at. Somewhere that Ron and Hermione are hopefully not staying at, though if push comes to shove..."

"Why?"

"I have rescued Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, Garrick Ollivander, and Griphook the goblin from Death Eater forces." Ulquiorra replied, drawing a bright and relieved grin from Sirius. "They need food, shelter, and a safe place to rest."

"Alright," Sirius said slowly. "But first I have to check that it's you." Ulquiorra dipped his head. "Of course."

"Hmmm...Oh! How did you find out I was your godfather?" Ulquiorra rolled his eyes. He had told the story of sneaking into Hogsmeade for the first time with the Marauder's Map and his father's cloak illegally to Sirius and how it was there he discovered the (one-sided) story of Sirius Black's crimes and that the man was his legal godfather. Sirius had thought it was hysterical and even bought him a butterbeer to compliment his mischief and law breaking.

"I snuck into Hogsmeade, and in order to not get caught breaking the law, I hid under a table in the Three Broomsticks, allowing me to overhear McGonagall, Fudge, Hagrid, Flitwick, and Madam Rosmerta talk about how you 'betrayed'," he made sure to put finger quotations, "my parents." Sirius barked with laughter. "That story never fails to make me laugh," he chortled, eyes brimming with pride. "Alright. Try Bill and Fleur's new place. It's called Shell Cottage. They'll take you lot in."

"Thanks Sirius. Oh, how is Tonks? Last I heard she was pregnant with Remus's possibly half-werewolf child." Ulquiorra inquired mildly, and Sirius snickered. "Good. She's due soon. Some time near New Years."

"A week or so then," Ulquiorra said lightly, referring to the fact that it was currently late December. "What's the exact date anyway?"

"Christmas is in two days."

"Lovely. Well, perhaps you'll visit us and _not say a word to Ron and Hermione about it._"

"Sure. See you soon, Harry. Be careful." Ulquiorra blinked in shock at the last sentence when the mirror's surface was once again obstructed by white smoke, indicating the end of the call.

* * *

"We'll go in groups." Ulquiorra said as he told the whole gang the location they were headed to. "Grimmjow, take Ollivander and Dean." Grimmjow scoffed, to Dean's ire, and Ulquiorra threw the former Hogwarts student an apologetic look. He just felt it would be best to keep Luna away from Grimmjow for some reason...

"I'll take Luna and Griphook. Remember, it's Shell Cottage owned by Bill and Fleur Weasely." Grimmjow shuddered. "Ergh. Fluer _Weasely_. Poor girl." and with that, the promptly slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed Dean and Ollivander and disappeared with a loud crack. Ulquiorra carefully made sure his rucksack was securely on his person when Luna grabbed his forearm and Griphook gripped his wrist tightly. "I'm not holding your hand." Griphook hissed distastefully at Ulquiorra, much to his relief. "Hold on tight to that," he said instead, nodding to the sword before Disapparating to Shell Cottage after his cat inclined partner.

* * *

It was a quaint little cottage by the sea. It was rather nice actually. Of course, Ulquiorra wasn't too fond of the sea, neither was Grimmjow, but it was still lovely regardless. It looked as though it could be on a postcard.

"How is everyone?" Ulquiorra asked Bill. They had gotten inside and as comfortable as they could about an hour ago. Bill had been reasonably shocked to see them all, since Ulquiorra and Grimmjow had vanished at his wedding and gone off the grid, leaving Ron and Hermione in the dust for months. However, he adapted quickly and commendably when he noticed the extremely injured and malnourished Ollivander and Griphook. Luna and Dean were doing better, but were still resting. "Griphook is mending. We gave him Skele-Grow." Bill reported, "And Ollivander is eating." Ulquiorra nodded. "Good. What will you do with them?" Bill shrugged. "We'll send Ollivander and Griphook to Muriel's with the rest of the family. We had to evacuate the Burrow," he explained hastily. "Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are _relatively_ safe at school-"

"Meaning they won't be killed, at the very least." Ulquiorra murmured and Bill nodded, a bitter smile on his face. "Yeah. But the rest of the family doesn't have that, erm, protection." The word protection came out strangled, as if he couldn't believe he had ever said that.

"Sirius?"

"On the run, last I heard. He might be staying with Remus and Tonks."

"Remus went back to Tonks?" Bill nodded, looking much happier. "Oh yeah. Said he saw sense. That and he really missed her." Ulquiorra nodded. "Good." he said, trailing off faintly. "Before you send them off, I need to speak with both Griphook and Ollivander."

"Why? What are you doing Harry?" Bill asked quietly, and Ulquiorra shook his head. "Dumbledore's orders," he said, feeling ridiculous that _those_ two words essentially guaranteed being left alone. "I can't say." Bill sighed, hanging his head, before bringing it back up tiredly. "Alright. Fine. But you'll have to wait."

"Yes! You will 'ave to wait, 'Arry. Zey are both too tired to talk now." Fleur chimed in at Bill's side. Ulquiorra shrugged. "Fine. But I _have_ to speak with them both before they leave here."

* * *

"I need to break into a Gringotts vault." Ulquiorra said bluntly to Griphook in his room the next morning. Grimmjow stared at him like he was crazy.

"Are you crazy?" Grimmjow asked incredulously. Ulquiorra turned to him. "Bellatrix went positively mad when she thought we had broken into her vault. She has something valuable. _Very _valuable." He hoped Grimmjow would get the hint. Grimmjow's brow furrowed before it cleared. "Oh." he said in sudden understanding before squaring his shoulders. "Alright. We're going to possibly die, but I'm in." Griphook stared at the two. "It cannot be done." Griphook said with clear pride in his voice (well, he _was _a Gringotts goblin). "It's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible if you're strong, smart, and crazy enough." Ulquiorra said mildly. "Trust me. We know." Grimmjow scowled, obviously getting that he was referring to Kurosaki. "It's a very powerful vault. It belongs to the Lestranges."

"You have no chance," said Griphook flatly. "No chance at all. _If you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours—"_

"_Thief, you have been warned_, _beware_—yes, I remember," Ulquiorra said. "But we need to get into that vault to defeat Voldemort. And breaking into such a high security vault requires inside information."

"It is against our code to speak of the secrets of Gringotts. We are the guardians of fabulous treasures. We have a duty to the objects placed in our care, which were, so often, wrought by our fingers." Griphook said tightly, seemingly dismissing them. Ulquiorra tilted his head. "I am willing to deal." Griphook looked at him curiously. "Deal?" Ulquiorra nodded, and held up the sword of Gryffindor, having taken it from Griphook the previous night after he had fallen asleep. Ulquiorra noticed the greedy gleam in the goblin's eyes as he eyed the sword. "This is goblin made isn't it?" Ulquiorra asked rhetorically. "You see it as a goblin treasure."

"Yes." Griphook replied, anger coloring his voice. "It was taken from the goblins by the wizard Godric Gryffindor." Ulquiorra shrugged. "Whether that is or is not untrue is irrelevant right now, and too far back in the past for me to ever know. You help us break into the Lestrange vault, and I'll give you the sword of Godric Gryffindor."

* * *

"Hello Mr. Ollivander." Ulquiorra said softly, Grimmjow following him into the room. "How are you?" Ollivander beamed up at him. "Much better. I thought I was going to die in that place...I can never thank you enough." Ulquiorra looked uncomfortable. "It's fine. I have a question about a certain wand."

"Yes, yes, of course."

"It's about the Elder Wand." Ulquiorra said, searching Ollivander's face for a reaction. He got a clear one: fear. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wants the Elder Wand to kill me, doesn't he?" Ollivander licked his lips nervously, face drawn and pale. "H-How...how do you know that?"

"Doesn't matter. But that's what he wants isn't it? He couldn't defeat me with a borrowed wand, so he's trying to get one more powerful."

"Yes." Ollivander whispered. "Yes. You-Know-Who was always happy with his original wand, the wand I gave him, but he knows you're a rather formidable foe. He realizes now that it will take a very powerful wand that is not connected to yours to defeat you. However, he no longer seeks it solely to destroy you. He seeks to become invincible."

"You told him Gregorovitch had the wand." Ulquiorra stated and the wandmaker swallowed in fear. "It was a rumor. Long ago. Most likely started by Gregorovitch himself for publicity."

"I see. Thank you Mr. Ollivander. Get some more rest." Ulquiorra turned to leave the room, Grimmjow already out the door.

"I was tortured! ...The Cruciatus Curse...you have no idea..."

"It's fine. It barely even matters." Ulquiorra reassured the frantic wandmaker calmly. "Just get some sleep."

* * *

"It wasn't just a rumor was it?" Grimmjow asked in the deserted hallway. "He really did have it." Ulquiorra nodded. "Yes...Grindlewald, the one who stole from Gregorovitch, stole the Elder Wand and started his reign of terror. But he was defeated by Dumbledore-"

"-Who got the elder wand." Grimmjow finished. "And, uh, _He's _after it now." He said, stumbling on not saying Voldemort's name. "Does he know?"

"Not yet. But he will. He's coming close to the answer." Ulquiorra said quietly. "We can't go to Hogwarts. It's too risky. We need to focus on weakening..._Him._"

"So...the fate of the Wizarding World is decided by that goblin?"

"Pretty much."

"FUCK."

* * *

"You know how I said He's coming close to figuring out Dumbledore has the Elder Wand?"

"Yeah?"

"Scratch that. He has it now."

"Well, fuck."

* * *

"I have your word, Harry Potter, that you will give me the sword of Gryffindor if I help you?"

"Yes," said Ulquiorra.

"Then shake," said the goblin, holding out his hand. Ulquiorra shook, and the deal was made.

"Well then." Ulquiorra said. "Let's begin."

* * *

_Murciélago?_

_**Yeah?**_

_How's that planting paranoia into Voldemort's mind going?_

_**Not good. Some days I'm really close to making him snap, but then his "Oh, that couldn't happen. I'm Lord Voldemort, I'm awesome" arrogance kicks in and totally kills my progress! It's so annoying!**_

_So, we have to actually get a Horcrux and have him **know **we got it to make him do anything?_

_**Yep.**_

_I hate this guy._

* * *

"It's a boy!" Lupin cried as he and Sirius were finally allowed entry way and burst into the cottage. "We've named him Ted, after Dora's father!" Ulquiorra stood up. "Tonks had the baby? That's early." Ulquiorra smiled a bit and shook the thrilled Lupin's hand. "Congratulations." Lupin beamed amid the congratulations, cheering, and Sirius's barking laughter surrounding him and pulled Ulquiorra for a jittery and enthusiastic hug. "Uh..."

"It's all thanks to you," Lupin murmured in Ulquiorra's ear. "You and that insane friend of yours. Thank you, Harry." Ulquiorra shifted awkwardly in the embrace. "Er, no problem." He hesitantly patted Lupin on the back. "...Please get off me." Lupin didn't take offense, but merely laughed loudly. Ulquiorra stared. The werewolf looked years younger, and was actually acting happy. It was a strange but not bad change. As Lupin moved on to talk to Bill and Fluer, boasting about the newest Lupin's shape-shifting abilities, Sirius came over and slapped Ulquiorra on the back. "Harry! Good to see you alive and not horribly injured!" He laughed and Ulquiorra smirked. "Hello Sirius. Been doing well?"

"I've done worse." Sirius grinned. "Hard to get any worse than Azkaban." Ulquiorra's smirked turned wry. "I'm sorry, but I don't have a present. My survival will have to sate you." Sirius chuckled. "Don't worry. Your safety is good enough for me. I, however, was able to find time to get you a present, since I'm not on a perilous journey to save the world and all." Ulquiorra let a small chuckle out (that was really more an exhaling of amused breath) and opened the small package.

It was a watch. Ulquiorra quirked an eyebrow. "I do already have a watch you know." He said, pulling his tattered and not often used golden pocketwatch out of his pocket. Sirius grinned. "Yeah, but this one is better." He took it out of the small box and strapped the watch on his wrist. Naturally it was in an older model that had gone out of style about ten years ago, like most wizard objects. It had black leather strap and a larger than normal gold circular face. It had _Harry James Potter _engraved in the back.

It had 7 blank black hands shaped similarly to spoons and no numbers. Instead of numbers there were 12 inscriptions; _Home_, _School_, _Work_, _Traveling_, _Social Outing,_ _Lost_, _Hospital_, _Prison/Kidnapped_, _Quidditch_, _Mortal Peril, __Other (Friendly) Residence _and _Dead__._

"This is a mimic of the Weasely family clock." Ulquiorra said, very impressed. He had always admired that clock. It was a fantastic magical object. Sirius beamed, hearing the admiring tone in Ulquiorra's voice. "Yup. I had Arthur take the clock apart and make a replica. He had a brilliant time doing it although I had him add the _Other (Friendly) Residence _and _Dead _option what with us being at war and all. The _Social Outing _was just for irony," Ulquiorra rolled his eyes, "So you open it up-" Sirius opened the glass protecting the clock hands and using his wand, gently removed the little screw thing keeping the hands in place and raised one up in the air. Using his non-wand hand, he opened a miniscule hatch, showing that the watch hand in the air was hollow. Sirius than plucked a hair from his head and slipped it inside. "There." Sirius said triumphantly. "I don't know exactly how it works, but just do that with everyone you want in the watch."

* * *

"OW!" Grimmjow yelled angrily as Ulquiorra unceremoniously yanked a blonde hair off his head and carefully put it in the watch. Ulquiorra already had Sirius (_Traveling_) and placed the spoon-like watch hand with a picture of Grimmjow on the bowl back in the watch. It clicked over to _Traveling_ before settling to _Other (Friendly) Residence_ on the space where the 11 would be.

"Damn Motherfucker..."

"Shut up Grimmjow."

* * *

"Luna, could I have one of your hairs for my watch?"

"Hm? Oh, sure Harry."

"Thanks" _Also Other (Friendly) Residence._

* * *

They were ready. Took 'em a couple weeks to bullshit a plan, but they were ready.

Mostly.

"I don't like this." Grimmjow said. Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. "Of course you don't." Ulquiorra agreed, Griphook nodding along side him.

Griphook and Ulquiorra got along fairly well, shocking Bill Weasely, who had never seen the unfriendly goblin got along with a wizard before. Ulquiorra had nodded sagely and had said it was their mutual love for not touching other people and their disdain for the average human's lack of intelligence. And he then walked away. Like a Boss.

Anyway, the reason Grimmjow didn't like this was because he was Polyjuiced into looking like Bellatrix. It wasn't fun for Grimmjow but Ulquiorra thought it was kinda funny seeing Bellatrix scowl, talk and walk and stand like a man. Or in this case, a pouty five year old.

"Suck it up." Ulquiorra said, grimacing along with Griphook as the goblin climbed up to cling to Ulquiorra's shoulder's piggy back style. _Ugh_. Ulquiorra mentally groaned. _Physical contact._ "Are we ready to go?" Grimmjow grimaced. "Yeah, yeah. Let's do this."

"Oh. You two are leaving now?" A dreamy voice rang out behind them, causing the two wizards (and by association, goblin) to whirl around and see Luna calmly walk up to them. "Luna." Ulquiorra said awkwardly. "This...isn't exactly what it looks-"

"Oh yes, I can see that." Luna hummed, drifting over to Grimmjow's side and petting the air. "Hello, Blue Cat. How lovely to see you again." Grimmjow blushed and rubbed the back of his (her?) neck. Ulquiorra felt dread again. He really needed to figure out what that meant, it was at the tip of his tongue.

_**Uh...**_

"You two are leaving again. Do be careful. Dangerous things unseen can lurk about, you know."

"Erm. Yes." Ulquiorra said. Grimmjow grinned widely, which looked terribly out of place and Bellatrix's face. "Mr. Ollivander made me a new wand." Luna said amiably, "Dean seems a bit put out. Do you have a wand Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra stared at Grimmjow. _"Grimmjow?" _He said, eyes narrowing. "Well, she'd figure it out anyway." Grimmjow hissed back defensively as Ulquiorra glared at him for not even _trying_ to hide his real name from the airy girl. Grimmjow turned back to Luna. "Yeah. I have a wand."

"Yes, but is it a _proper _wand?" Luna asked happily. "True and proper for a witch of your station?"

"What are you talking abou-Oh shit."

* * *

_10 minutes of arguing and attempted planning later..._

"...Alright, I don't have anything substantial to contribute."

"...Imperious Curse?"

"Alright, _fine._ But if we die, I'm blaming you Grimmjow."

"Eh, fair enough."

* * *

"I cannot believe that fucking worked!" Grimmjow screamed over the roaring wind as the Gringotts cart rocketed down the very unstable looking track. Ulquiorra nodded from his seat.

The two and Griphook had gotten to Gringotts no problem with Grimmjow disguised as Bellatrix (and wearing a perfect displeased and hateful death glare to boot) and Ulquiorra and Griphook under the invisibility cloak. They had run into a Death Eater, Travers, and had some trouble getting in the main entrance, but a few Confundus Charms handled the wizard guards and their disturbing probe things.

The real problem was the goblins. Like the bullshit plan dictated, Ulquiorra just Imperiused everybody, got the goblin with the 'clankers' (whatever the hell those were), and quickly got the hell out of there to the cart before it wore off. Needless to say, it wasn't a good plan.

"Don't let your guard down!" Ulquiorra shouted back, eyes watering as the sharp cold air blasted him and they shot even further down, passing a chained dragon. "We're still essentially screwed!" Ulquiorra jerked sideways as they took a sharp turn to see a large waterfall in front of them.

"NO!" Griphook shouted, and Ulquiorra was suddenly drenched in water and blinded. Another lurch, and all occupants of the cart were launched out, hurtling up in the freezing air before shooting towards the ground. Ulquiorra whipped out his wand and cast a Cushioning Charm. They all floated down to the cave floor and landed painlessly. Ulquiorra shook his head of water and glanced at Grimmjow, who once more looked like Grimmjow, hissing and spitting at all the water. "The fuck!" He spat, literally, water shooting out of his mouth.

"The Thief's Downfall!" said Griphook, clambering to his feet and looking back the deluge onto the tracks which had been more than water. "It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment! They know there are imposers in Gringotts, they have set off defenses against us!"

"Swell." Ulquiorra grumbled, slinging on of the bags off his shoulders and tossing it to Grimmjow, who caught it, pointing towards their goblin escort, who was currently freaking out at the fact that he was with a bunch of thieves. "Imperio." The goblin, whose name Ulquiorra didn't care about, once again resumed a blank dull look on his face. "Right," Ulquiorra said as Grimmjow hastily reached into the bag Ulquiorra gave him and pulled out clothes that fit and began to change out of the wet robes he had been wearing as Bellatrix. "We should hurry."

"Let's hurry the hell up." Grimmjow said, already done changing. Ulquiorra stared. "How did you do that so quickly?"

"Because I'm a guy and not insanely picky about clothes like you." Grimmjow deadpanned. "Besides, I'm French. I'll look good no matter what."

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes.

* * *

"That's barbaric." Ulquiorra said disgustedly as the poor tortured and malnourished dragon retreated in fear from the clankers. There were scars all over it's face, flaky scales peeling, it's milky pink eyes big with fear. "That's life." Grimmjow said bluntly, although he also looked uncomfortable and disturbed at the treatment of the dragon guard.

"Make him press his hand to the door!" Griphook ordered in regards to the Imperiused goblin trailing behind them. Ulquiorra flicked his wand, feeling his entire arm tingle with the movement, and the goblin tottered over to the door and placed a hand upon it. The door melted away like a Popsicle in summer heat showing a room packed to the brim with treasure; gold coins, goblets, silver armor, jewels, weapons, and some creepy looking animal skins. "Make it quick." Ulquiorra said before stepping inside, hoping to Aizen _something _was in there. "Remember, there are probably a lot of curses on the treasure, so try not to touch-"

"Son of a bitch!" Ulquiorra turned to see Grimmjow holding his forearm and glaring a golden fork(?) which immediately clattered to the floor. "It burned me-holy shit!" Grimmjow backed away as multiple copies burst from the original, all identical and useless. "They have added Germino and Flagrante Curses!" said Griphook. A heavy pause penetrated the air.

"Like I said," Ulquiorra huffed, "don't touch anything."

* * *

"There!" Two lights shone on the small golden cup on a high shelf that none, not even the tall Grimmjow, could reach without touching a lot of treasure. "Please hurry," Ulquiorra panted, "It's too hot." The treasure in the vault radiated heat in waves, and Ulquiorra, a creature more inclined to the dark and damp was very uncomfortable. Grimmjow, who was used and liked to sun bathe and take cat naps in sunny spots was doing better off.

"Tch. Pussy."

"That would be you." Ulquiorra groaned. "We have to get it while not touching anything else." Grimmjow looked up in thought. "I have an idea."

* * *

"I don't wanna." Murciélago whined. "You have to." Grimmjow said to the materialized tiny bat.

"Nuh huh."

"Uh huh. If you don't, I think he might pass out from heat stroke." Grimmjow indicated to Ulquiorra, who was dangerously flushed and slightly swaying, and Griphook awkwardly steadied him to prevent him from slamming into any protruding treasure. Murciélago faltered and huffed angrily. "Fine. But you owe me." And with that, she beat her wings and flew up to the ceiling, where she turned into her humanoid and preferred form. Digging her claws into the ceiling and keeping her tail close, she crawled along to the shelf with the coveted cup. "Back up to the door!" The three on the ground did what they were told, and backed up to the door far away from Murciélago. Wincing in preemptive pain, her tail carefully snaked forward and grasped the Horcrux. It burned terribly, but she held on as copies sprang from the cup and tumbled in the air to clatter with loud clangs to the floor or crashed into other pieces of treasure.

Murciélago vanished a second later, cup and all.

"She's home." Ulquiorra muttered. "Cup's there too. Let's go."

* * *

"OW!" Murciélago wailed, holding her burnt tail. "Ow, ow ow!" She dashed over to the underground lake of her world after dropping the cup and dunked her tail into the frigid water. "Ahhhh~" she sighed in relief. "That's better."

* * *

What met them on the over side of the door was a horde of pissed off goblins, wizards, and a dragon.

It wasn't pleasant.

* * *

"Here." Ulquiorra shoved the sword into the surprised Griphook's hands, who had not been expecting Ulquiorra to hold his end of the deal. "You got us in, here's the sword." He and Grimmjow silently stunned a row of incoming goblins and out of the corner of his eye he saw Griphook slip among them, losing himself in the crowd. Hordes of wizard guards followed, but stumbled back as the blind dragon roared a steady stream of fire.

_**IDEA!**_

_What?_

* * *

_One ridiculous conversation (which for some reason involved the mention of bananas) later..._

* * *

_That's insane. _

_**It's so insane it's genius! Genius!**_

_Urgh._

Ulquiorra pointed his wand at the tethered dragon. "Relishio!"

"What are you doing?" Grimmjow yelled as he absentmindedly stunned an attacking goblin. Ulquiorra looked at him while kicking another goblin in the face. "Something incredibly stupid and insane." Ulquiorra quickly broke into a sprint, launching himself up with jump and catching on to the dragon's scales, hauled himself up in a sitting position.

"OH HELL NO!" Grimmjow roared, also running towards the dragon and climbing up the dragon's side as it just began to realize its freedom. "THIS IS CRAZY!" He settled on the dragons back.

"You think I don't know that?!" Ulquiorra snarled back, blasting a hole to enlarge the exit for the dragon to climb through. "Are you an idiot?" The dragon jumped into the air and soared towards the hole Ulquiorra created and began struggling it's way through the too small passageways and stalactites. Ulquiorra and Grimmjow clung on for dear life.

"FUCK YOU!" Grimmjow shouted back, getting in the last word as they were then engulfed by heat, dust, and dirt as the dragon clawed its way back up to the surface.

_Pure insanity. _Ulquiorra mentally grumbled as he helped the dragon dig its way out. Grimmjow fired what appeared to be an cero imitation of some sort, which really cleared the way for the dragon to break through into the entrance hall. Wizards screamed and goblins ran around frantically. The dragon shook its head of dirt and roared spreading it's wings and burst through the metal doors of Gringotts into Diagon Ally.

"I can't believe this worked!" Ulquiorra shouted to Grimmjow, who nodded in agreement as the dragon pushed the air with its wings and soared into the sky.

* * *

"Jump!" Ulquiorra and Grimmjow, making sure their stuff was secure, slid off the dragon midair and plummeted towards the water below them.

"Fucking wat-" Grimmjow's angry screams were cut off as they both landed hard, feet first, into a cold, green, muddy lake. Ulquiorra somehow managed to surface first, despite that bats were completely unable to survive in water, unlike certain jungle cats. He spat out a reed. Grimmjow surfaced next, and much more aptly (Ulquiorra struggled with the reeds a bit). They watched the dragon move on and settle on a faraway bank. Grimmjow nodded to the closest shoreline, and they struggled through the mud and lake plants. Grimmjow flopped on the grassy dry land immediately. "Ugh." He groaned, flipping over to lay on his back. "I hate water." Ulquiorra copied him. "Agreed."

There was a companionable silence.

"So, does he know yet?"

"No, not ye- Oh, wait. There it is."

* * *

"It is definitely at Hogwarts." Ulquiorra said, after stabbing the cup with Murciélago's blade, Grimmjow's sword also stabbing the cup from a different angle at the same time. The two looked passively at the cup as high cold screams echoed around them. Before glancing at each other, shrugging, and getting back to business. "I didn't see where, he was too busy focusing on his trust issues and being correctly paranoid about the possibility we know about the others."

"Super." Grimmjow drawled, drying off their clothes with his wands. "Another death mission then?"

"Yes."

"Sweet."

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow apparated in Hogsmeade, which, naturally, set off a loud, high pitched alarm that sent Death Eaters running towards them.

Swell.

* * *

After some running under the invisibility cloak/disillusionment charm from the Death Eaters, the Dementors were called. "Grimmjow, cast a Patronus!" Ulquiorra hissed, feeling the cold chill and fear signifying the Dementors' arrival.

"Why do I have to?" Grimmjow's question lacked its usual bite as the teen shivered and hissed in the cold. His hair seemed to almost puff out in order to get warmer.

"They-they know what mine looks like" Ulquiorra whispered. "They're getting closer, Grimmjow-"

"Expecto Patronum." Grimmjow muttered promptly, also extremely uncomfortable and afraid of the former guards of Azkaban, holding his wand up, a silver white panther of mammoth size erupting from the tip. With a gleeful yowl (of course only _Grimmjow _could have a Patronus that yowled happily while chasing demon creature things), the giant cat bounded away, its large jaws snapping at the Dementors and batting the hems of their retreating cloaks with glowing paws like a kitten would bat a string of yarn.

"There! A patronus!"

"But that's a cat."

"I thought we were looking for a stag." Ulquiorra and Grimmjow looked at each other with equally exasperated and incredulous looks on their faces. They knew Death Eaters weren't on the smarter side, but _wow._

"What? Where did you hear _that? _Potter's patronus is a...bat...type... thing." Ulquiorra's face deadpanned. Murciélago hissed indignantly.

"Well, I heard _somewhere _that it was a stag."

"That's just stupid. We're clearly looking for a bat type thing." At this point, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow wandered over to what appeared to be the Hog's Head and knocked on the door.

"What's a 'bat type thing' exactly?"

"A bat type thing is a bat type thing, obviously!" A man with a stringy gray beard and dirty glasses opened the door. He had Dumbledore blue eyes and a curious scowl; it was the barman. "Can we come in?" Ulquiorra asked him politely after removing the cloak enough to reveal his face. "We're fleeing from extremely stupid Death Eaters, so shelter would be appreciated." The Hog's Head barman glanced around quickly and rushed them in.

"Uh, shouldn't we check out where the patronus came from? I mean, he had a partner right?"

"He's gay?" Grimmjow and Ulquiorra both paused in the doorway, turned vaguely green, and felt ill at the mere thought of the two being gay. For _each other. _They were then yanked inside the residence and told to hide.

"NO! I mean a partner! A companion, friend, associate, chum- That kind of partner you arse!"

"...Oh."

"I mean, I guess he _could _be gay. Maybe."

"Well...he does hang around with blokes more than girls right?"

"Yeah..." Grimmjow and Ulquiorra shuddered.

* * *

The barman turned out to be Aberforth Dumbledore, the ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts's estranged brother. Turned out Aberforth wasn't too fond of Albus. Ulquiorra could respect that. Especially after hearing the entire tragic sob story that was the Dumbledore family.

Not liking your brother after he neglects your family until he has to lead said family and then neglects your handicapped younger sister to be (presumably) gay for a racist psychopath? Yeah, Ulquiorra could respect that.

"I still have to do it." Ulquiorra said as he and Grimmjow sat in repulsed and pitying silence in the aftermath of Aberforth's story.

"Why?" Aberforth spat. "Was my brother ever honest with you? Did he give you an easy job? Do you think he really cared Potter? I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother's knee. Secrets and lies, that's how we grew up, and Albus . . . he was a natural." Ulquiorra paused. "He wasn't." Ulquiorra said finally, looking the broken man in the eyes. "He wasn't honest with me. He didn't give me an easy job. Over half of the time I was with him, I wanted to punch him in the face for being so vexingly vague." Grimmjow snickered and Aberforth cracked a small bitter smile. "But I still have to do it. I could give you a big noble reason that I'm doing it to save the world. To stop pain and suffering, and maybe I am, but I'm doing this mostly for selfish reasons." Ulquoirra leaned forward.

"_He_ killed my parents. He tortured my friend's families. He's made my entire life an annoyance. This isn't about saving the world for me." Ulquiorra leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at Aberforth's stunned expression.

"This fight, this _war_ is about payback. All of this is simply me trying to get even, nothing more, nothing less."

"And, you know. Destiny."

"Right. Destiny _is_, quite unfortunately, involved. Prophecy, you know?"

* * *

"How long has this been here?" Ulquiorra muttered, looking around the secret passageway leading back into Hogwarts from the bar they just left. Neville, looking utterly horrible with his cut up face, longish hair and swollen bruised face, was cheerily leading them, insanely delighted at the two former Espada's arrival. "It's not on the map." He glanced down at the the Marauder's Map, not finding the passageway.

"Never mind that. . . . Is it true? Did you break into Gringotts? Did you escape on a dragon? It's everywhere, everyone's talking about it, Teddy Boot got beaten up by Carrow for yelling about it in the Great Hall at dinner!" Neville chattered excitedly. Ulquoirra smiled faintly and Grimmjow cackled. "Damn straight. Fucking awesome, that was. Except for the landing." The last sentence was muttered under the cat-like man's breath.

"What happened to the dragon?"

"Let it go free. How's Hogwarts been?"

"Well..."

* * *

"That's...disturbing." Ulquiorra said after the long and rather depressing description of what Hogwarts had been reduced to. Ulquiorra felt the familiar burn of wrath pulse softly in his veins. This place had basically been his home for the last six years. It made him mad to hear it turned into into a torture chamber and prison.

"Yeah, so since Ron's entire family is on the run and Hermione's parents are incognito and they realized I was one of the main one behind things, they decided there was only one thing left to do. They went after Gran." Grimmjow choked slightly on air in surprise, and Ulquiorra felt his own eyes widen slightly. "Seriously?" Neville laughed. "Yeah. They never saw it coming. Thought a little old witch living alone wouldn't be to much trouble. Dawlish is still in the hospital." Neville smiled fondly, "and Gran's on the run. Sent me a letter, saying how proud she is of me. That I'm really my parent's son." Ulquiorra smiled. Neville always was a bit shy on confidence and dealing with his parents legacy, and his grandmother (from what Ulquiorra had heard) was hard to impress. Good for him.

"Only thing was, once they realized they had no hold over me, they decided Hogwarts could do without me after all. I don't know whether they were planning to kill me or send me to Azkaban, either way, I knew it was time to disappear." Grimmjow cocked his head. "Aren't we going to Hogwarts?"

"Yeah. You'll see."

* * *

"Look who it is! Didn't I tell you?"

As Harry emerged into the room beyond the passage, there were several screams and yells:

"HARRY!"

"It's Potter, it's POTTER!"

"Who the hell is that guy with him?"

"_**Harry James Potter**_!" This shriek wasn't one of joy, excitement or awe. It was rage. Pure, undiluted, almost tangible female rage. Ulquiorra flinched. This wasn't going to be pretty. He felt more than saw Grimmjow edge away from him warily.

_Thanks bastard._ Ulquiorra thought half-heartedly. He couldn't really blame the guy as he saw Hermione Granger, tailed by Ron, storm through the crowd of students, who parted for her like the Red Sea. She looked absolutely furious, with betrayed tears in her eyes. Ron mirrored her expression, only without the tears, instead envy filled his eyes as he glanced upon Grimmjow. Ulquiorra braced himself.

"You-You!" Hermione could barely form words, "You filthy, lying, bastard! You left us! After everything we've been through. After all I did-I erased my parents memories of me for you and you _left!_" Ulquiorra winced guiltily. "I _did_ say you weren't coming." He muttered petulantly. His face then sharply turned to the side with the angry slap Hermione bestowed on his cheek. Silence penetrated the room. Ulquiorra flexed his jaw, and a hand shot up to his face. "Alright." Ulquiorra said through gritted teeth and irritation and pain. "I probably deserved that-"

"PROBABLY?!" Ron exploded, his face an interesting radish color of purple and red. "MORE THAN PROBABLY YOU BLOODY PRAT!" Ron took an aggressive step forward, fists clenched and arms jerking as though the ginger was restraining from punching Ulquiorra in the face. "You bloody left us at that wedding!"

"I needed people at Hogwarts," Ulquiorra snapped. "Someone had to come back, to protect the younger students, to inspire hope-"

"THAT'S WHAT NEVILLE'S FOR YOU ARSE! Sorry Neville." Ron finished apologetically to the no longer plump boy. Neville shuffled, trying desperately to not be involved in the argument. "'S fine." He mumbled quietly. Ulquiorra coughed awkwardly. "Well-"

"Look Weasel, we could argue all day about why Bat Boy here sucks," Grimmjow cut Ron off, to both Ron and Hermione's fury and Ulquiorra's vexation. "We've got work to do, so suck it up and rant at him later, alright?"

* * *

"Hello Harry," Luna said happily, "Oh, and hello Grimmjow. I thought you'd be here." Grimmjow grinned happily. "Hey Luna." Ulquiorra stared hard at Grimmjow. Seriously, what was going on with him?

_**Erm...**_

_You know._

_**...Yeah.**_

_Well?_

_**I think it's in your best interest if I don't tell you until the war's over.**_

_What-?_

"Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra's eyelid twitched as he turned to Hermione, whose look of fury changed into confusion. "Why did she call you Grimmjow?"

"Uh..."

"See, this is why we don't introduce our selves properly, you stupid cat."

* * *

"We're running out of time." Ulquiorra muttered to Grimmjow, and Grimmjow nodded. "Fine. HEY! Englishmen!" Ulquiorra facepalmed as everyone turned to face Grimmjow like he was insane (not too far from the truth). "We're looking for something that belonged to Ravenclaw! It'll help us kill...uh, _Him_! Any suggestions?" His question was filled with bewildered silence. Not for long though.

"There's Ravenclaw's diadem." Luna answered, perched on the arm of Ginny Weasely's chair. "Daddy's trying to duplicate it-"

"Er. Yes, we've seen." Ulquiorra cut off, not noticing Grimmjow approving (and slightly adoring, not that he'd ever admit or know he'd given such a) look. Micheal Corner rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but it's the _lost _diadem of Ravenclaw. It's _lost _Luna."

"Hey, you have a better idea?" Grimmjow snapped. Ulquiorra looked at him strangely, then turned his confused look to Ginny, who giggled. _What the fuck?_

_**Boys. So clueless.**_

_Seriously, what-?_

"It was lost centuries ago, they say," said Cho Chang, and Ulquiorra's heart sank once he was pulled back to the conversation. "Professor Flitwick says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked, but," she appealed to her fellow Ravenclaws, "nobody's ever found a trace of it, have they?"

* * *

"If you'd like to see what the diadem's supposed to look like, I could take you up to our common room and show you, Harry. Ravenclaw's wearing it in her statue." Cho said shyly, batting her eyes at him. Ulquiorra experienced severe _Déjà __vu_. "Uh-"

"Luna will show you." Ginny cut off, glaring at Cho, and Ulquiorra once again winced. It looked like she wasn't quite over him yet. Damn. "Won't you Luna?" Luna smiled brightly. "Oh yes. I'd love to." the airy girl agree and slid off Ginny's chair to her feet. Grimmjow scowled. "Alright, let's go." The taller boy said loudly and Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow, frowning. "You should stay here. The rest of the DA needs leadership." He aptly ignored Ron's indignant shout and cursing.

"Hell no. I'm not leaving you with-" Grimmjow cut himself off, looking flustered and slightly pink. Ulquiorra felt cold hard realization as the horrifying epiphany slammed into him. _No._ "-With all the fun." Grimmjow finished lamely and Ulquiorra stared up at him in pale horror.

_No. NO. NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo._

_**Yeah, this is why I thought it best if I didn't tell you until after the war.**_

_GRIMMJOW AND __**LUNA?**_

_**Well...**_

_For the love of Aizen, why can't God or the Soul King or whomever rules the universe ever give me a break?_

_**Maybe it's because we always swear by Aizen.**_

"No, Grimmjow. Just...no." Ulquiorra muttered, mind slightly cracked from all the stress of nearly dying, impending battle, and the idea of Grimmjow and Luna together (and the nauseating fact that it actually kinda worked. Sorta. Maybe. Eh.). "I don't think my brain could handle it."

Luna tilted her head, puzzled. Ginny snickered along with Murciélago.

Grimmjow flushed at the tips of his ears. "Shut up."

* * *

"I've never stunned anyone besides DA meetings," Luna said mildly as Ulquiorra stared at her, then turned back to Alecto Carrow, the Death Eater that had just summoned/alerted Voldemort (Well, fuck his life) and attempted to kill them whilst Ulquiorra examined the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw and her diadem. "It was noisier than I expected."

"...Yes." Ulquiorra said after a numb pause. Probably good that Grimmjow wasn't there. He seemed to be attracted to violence...

"Get under the cloak Harry," Luna continued, oblivious to Ulquiorra's discomfort, "people are coming."

* * *

"I think she might be dead!" One very happy and very bold first year exclaimed after poking the Death Eater in the back with his toe.

"Oooh look! We've made them happy."

"..."

* * *

_Well, this is awkward. _Ulquiorra thought as McGonagall let in the other Death Eater, something-that-begins-with-the-letter-A Carrow. Something-that-begins-with-the-letter-A flipped out, naturally, seeing his sister on the ground, stunned. At first he thought she was dead (by the hands of the Ravenclaw students), indicating he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box. McGonagall, of course, corrected him. He then began to flip out on what Voldemort would say when he arrived, having been summoned by Alecto minutes ago. Ulquiorra peeked into Voldemort's mind and saw he was checking the cave before he came for him. Well, that bought a little time.

Something-that-begins-with-the-letter-A began to get crafty (and not in the good way) and began to plot. 'Cuz he was evil and all that (Ulquiorra told Murciélago to shut up at that point).

"We'll say Alecto was ambushed by the kids, them kids up there"—he looked up at the ceiling painted with stars toward the dormitories—"and we'll say they forced her to press the Mark, and that's why he got a false alarm. . . . He can punish them. Couple of kids more or less, what's the difference?" Ulquiorra gaped from under the cloak and he felt Luna tense. Dear god...Was Something-that-begins-with-the-letter-A that stupid?! Voldemort wouldn't fall for that! Voldemort may be arrogant trash but he (surprisingly) wasn't stupid!

"Absolutely not!" McGonagal said, face drawn and pale at the mere thought of the students at the hands of Voldemort. "You are not going to pass off your many ineptitudes on the students of Hogwarts. I shall not permit it." Something-that-begins-with-the-letter-A snarled and whirled around to face her. He stalked up to her until they were face to face, only inches apart. Ulquiorra noted with some amusement that McGonagall was taller than him.

"It's not a case of what you'll permit, Minerva McGonagall. You time's over. It's us what's in charge here now, and you'll back me up or you'll pay the price." And he spat in her face.

_**Oh no, he did NOT just do what I think he did!**_

* * *

"I see," Ulquiorra said mildly as he watched Something-that-begins-with-the-letter-A writhe in agony before crashing into a bookshelf and collapsing with the occasional twitch. "You must really have to mean them for them to work. Interesting." McGonagall whirled around to face him, shock coating her face thickly. "Potter! What-How-?" She sputtered before composing herself. "That was foolish Potter!"

"He spat on you." Ulquiorra said calmly. "I don't like it when people spit on people I like." He turned to face his old Professor. "Professor, Voldemort is coming." He peeked into his rival's mind. He was sailing across the cave lake to the stone island. Lovely.

"We're allowed to say his name now?" Luna inquired curiously, taking off the invisibility cloak and folding it up neatly, causing McGonagall to back up into a chair and clutch the collar of her tartan (honestly, _Scots_) nightdress.

"He knows where I am, there isn't a point in making an effort." Ulquiorra explained before turning to the stunned Transfiguration teacher. "I need the diadem of Ravenclaw. Any ideas on where it is?"

"The d–diadem of Ravenclaw? Of course not—hasn't it been lost for centuries? Potter, it was madness, utter madness, for you to enter this castle—"

"I have something important to do." Ulquiorra said. "And I need to find something in this castle to do it. Dumbledore's orders." He added hastily, foreseeing that mentioning the little tidbit would speed things up. A lot.

"You're acting on Dumbledore's orders?" she repeated with a look of dawning wonder. Then she drew herself up to her full height. "We shall secure the school against He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named while you search for this—this object."

_**Seriously? **_

* * *

"He can fly now?" Ulquiorra deadpanned as he watched Snape flee from the (_**Completely Fantastically Epic**_) fight against McGonagall. Snape had jumped out of a window once Flitwick and Slughorn had arrived on the scene and outnumbered him and had flown, like a cartoon bat, away into the night. "Figures."

* * *

"I'm sorry to interrupt. Do you have any idea where the diadem of Ravenclaw is?"

"—_Protego Horribilis_—the diadem of Ravenclaw?" squeaked Flitwick. "A little extra wisdom never goes amiss, Potter, but I hardly think it would be much use in this situation!"

"But do you know where it is? Have you seen it?"

"Seen it? Nobody has seen it in living memory! Long since lost, my boy!"

Ulquiorra frowned, but then his eyes widened and his mouth parted in realization.

_No one in **living **memory...not everyone in Hogwarts is alive though, are they._

_**The Ravenclaw Ghost! The Gay Lady!**_

_...Gray Lady._

_**Whatever.**_

* * *

_**Wow, that's a lot of people.**_ Murciélago said a little numbly at the large assembly of people in the Room of Requirement. The DA had called in reinforcements; the entire Order of the Phoenix. Sirius grinned roughly at him. "Hey." Ulquiorra nodded, "Hey." The entire DA rumbled past them to join the rest of the school and teachers in the Great Hall, and Grimmjow, Hermione, and Ron separated from the crowd to join Ulquiorra. Dean held out his hand as he passed them. "Hey Harry. Come on Luna." Luna smiled simply and took the hand, joining the crowd. Grimmjow glared and hissed. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes before his gaze was pulled to the arguing Weasely family. Ginny wanted to fight. No one else was cool with that.

Ulquiorra watched as Ginny finally surrendered (not happily, mind you) and turned to the entrance to the tunnel leading to the Hog's Head when someone stumbled through and fell over in their haste.

"Am I too late? Has it started? I only just found out, so I–I—" The figure paused, straightening lopsided glasses and gaping at the group, which most of his family was in.

"Who's that?" Grimmjow asked to Ulquiorra, voice loud in the tense silence.

"Percy Weasely."

"Man, that's _awkward._"

"Shut up, Grimmjow."

"Seriously, _why_ do you keep calling him that?"

* * *

"We need to find the Gray Lady." Ulquiorra said to his entourage as the walked briskly down the corridors of Hogwarts. Ulquiorra decided to skip the Great Hall meeting to be more productive. "And we have to hurry. He's here."

"_He's here?!"_ Hermione shrieked, hands flailing. Ron was pale. Grimmjow merely raised an eyebrow. "How are you so calm?" She demanded to the two former Arrancar (now Shinigami-technically), "And why the Gray Lady?"

"The diadem of Ravenclaw. We need it."

"It's a Horcrux?" Ron asked, still sour with Ulquiorra, which was indicated by his hard tone.

"Yes. No one _alive _knows where it is."

"Great."

"Indeed."

* * *

"Give me Harry Potter," said Voldemort's voice, disembodied and echoing throughout the entire school of Hogwarts, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you should be rewarded.

"You have until midnight."

_**Man, everybody down in the Hall must be flipping out right now. Sucks to be them.**_

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow sprinted towards the reitsu that could only be given by a magical plus, with Ron and Hermione dashing behind them. It was located in the Great Hall, and the four had to push their way past the students clambering towards the Room of Requirement.

"Nick!" Ulquiorra called once he spotted Nearly Headless Nick, the first ghost in his line of vision. "Nick!" the almost headless ghost turned to him. "Harry! My dear boy!" Nick made to grasp Ulquiorra's hands with his own. Both were surprised (Nick was floored, Ulquiorra was slightly startled) to hear Nick's translucent hands clasp Ulquiorra's flesh one's solidly and see Ulquiorra's pale hands lay in the cold ones of the plus spirit. "That's impossible." Nick said. Ulquiorra shrugged. "A lot of things are 'impossible'" he said dryly, "Where's the Gray Lady? I need to ask her something."

"You'd have to be dead." Nick continued, to Ulquiorra's ire, "I would only be able to touch you if you were dead."

"That's just not true," Ulquiorra said huffily, honestly, Hogwarts had been around for at least 1000 years. Had no student attended with reitsu _slightly _above the average level? "The Gray Lady, Nick. Where's the Gray Lady?"

"You're not dead are you?"

"Dammit Nick!" Ulquiorra snapped, yanking his hands from the ghost. "Where's-"

"OI!" Grimmjow yelled from across the room. "I found her!"

* * *

"You look like him," the ghost whispered sadly, waves of regret and bitterness wafting from her transparent form, "So much like him. Except for the eyes and the marks." Ulquiorra shifted uncomfortably. "Pale. Tall. Handsome." The last part was said with a ghost's equivalent of a blush. "Urm..."

"He was kind...flattering...he seemed sympathetic..." Oh yeah, Ulquiorra bet he was.

"You aren't the only one Voldemort's charmed information out of." He said, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Alright, so the diadem is definitely the Horcrux, and Voldemort got it before the cup and the locket, and he definitely hid it here. But where did he _put _it?"

"Well, we know he thinks he put somewhere totally secret." Grimmjow said thoughtfully, "And the only time he came back after he graduated was when he interviewed for that job right?"

"Yes..."

"Somewhere secret...where you need to hide things..."

"The Room of Hidden Things." Ron said suddenly, and everyone turned to him, to his embarrassment.

"The what?" Ulquiorra asked. Ron flushed. "The Room of Hidden Things." The ginger repeated. "It's part of the Room of Requirement. It's a place it turns into where you need to hide or dump something you don't want anyone else to get. I dumped that ugly locket Lavender gave me for Christmas last year there."

* * *

"Get out." Ulquiorra said to the three remaining people in the Room of Requirement. Tonks, Ginny, and some old lady stared up at him. "What?" Ginny asked. "Get out." Ulquiorra repeated. "I need the room, so you have to leave. And what the hell are you doing here?" He addressed the frantic looking Tonks, "Shouldn't you be with your kid?"

"I couldn't stand not knowing," Tonks rasped. "Where's Remus?" Ulquiorra stared. "Go back to your son Tonks."

"But-"

"Remus could die," Ulquiorra snapped, not in the mood to sugar coat. Tonks recoiled. "And if he dies, and you die alongside him like you would plan to if he _did _die, your son would be parentless, and let me tell you from personal experience; That sucks. GO HOME."

* * *

In the end, the old lady ended up stunning her and had Ginny take her back to the Hog's Head.

"I know what it's like for a boy to grow up without parents," she told Ulquiorra, "that kid deserves to be raised by his mother, at the very least."

* * *

The old lady, who turned out the Neville's grandmother, went to join her grandson with surprising speed.

"Right." Ulquiorra said. "So, everyone's out, now-"

"Hang on a moment!" said Ron sharply. "We've forgotten someone!"

"Who?" asked Hermione.

"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?"

"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" asked Ulquiorra dubiously. "They're house-elves Ron."

"No," said Ron seriously, "I mean we should tell them to get out."

"...Pardon?"

"Well, Dobby's down there, and Winky, right? We don't them getting hurt or anything-"

Well, Ulquiorra didn't see that coming. Well, the Ron having enough foresight and generosity to remember the (out of danger in the kitchens, because what Death Eater is thorough enough to check the _kitchens?)_ house-elves part.

Hermione glomping him with a passionate kiss in response was a bit more predictable, with her SPEW obsession. Ulquiorra's face slackened. "Seriously? _Now?" _He turned to the equally exasperated Grimmjow. "Seven years of sexual tension and they decide to do this _now?"_

"School children." Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "HEY! In case you haven't noticed, there's a _war _going on here! There's a fucking time and place!"

* * *

"And he never realized anyone else could get in?" Ron said incredulously, and Ulquiorra had to agree. The place was shaped like a cathedral, and looked like a miniature city with the large amounts of crap and hidden objects stack on top of each other. They looked like skyscrapers made purely out of junk.

"Right." Ulquiorra said. "It's definitely in here."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked faintly, "It'll take ages to find it in here, _if _it is here."

"...It's a...Chosen One thing." Ulquiorra said. "Trust me, it's here."

"Yeah, because we trust you _so_ completely after you ditched us at that wedding."

"Oh, would you _let it go_?!"

* * *

"This way," Grimmjow said, walking next to Ulquiorra as they purposefully strode towards the source of dark reitsu deep within the maze of stuff. Ron and Hermione trailed behind, looking at all the junk in awe. "How do you know it's this way?" Ron asked.

"Chosen One thing. Now shut up." Both Shinigami said instantly and simultaneously, not even looking back at Ron. Ron sputtered indignantly, and Hermione huffed. "Don't be so rude! It was fair question." Ulquiorra grunted, taking a turn to the right.

They stopped in front of a large pile of junk. "Is it here?" Ron asked, craning his neck to look around them. Ulquiorra and Grimmjow shared a sideways glance. "Not...exactly." Grimmjow said. The two partners shared another look and sighed. Then they walked forward and proceeded to _scale _the junk mountain, climbing their way up.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

"If we want the Horcrux, we have to climb the pile. Otherwise we'll have to go back and take the long way." Ulquiorra called over his shoulder, already having reached the apex of Junk Mountain, Grimmjow alongside him. They sat at the top momentarily. "Ready?"

"Sure." With that, they pushed themselves off the mountain and slid/fell down to the other side, ignoring Hermione's terrified and shocked scream. They landed heavily and looked straight forward.

"Oh. Found it."

* * *

"So, I killed the diary," Ulquiorra said as they stared at the diadem resting on a wig (which was resting on a male bust), "Dumbledore killed the ring..somehow," Ulquiorra shook his head and continued, "You the locket, and both of us got the cup." A pause. "Well, I get 'Voldiequiorra', naturally," Ulquiorra said, ignoring Ron and Hermione's shouts asking what was going on. "So, you either get this or the snake."

"Hey, even if I do kill this one, you'll still get to kill one more than me," Grimmjow protested, also ignoring the frantic yelling coming from behind Junk Mountain. "_And _Voldemort. Not fair." Ulquiorra considered it.

"Fine. You kill this one, we both kill the snake." Ulquiorra decided. "That way it's even."

"Yes! Die Fucker!" Grimmjow cackled insanely, swiping down on the diadem (and the wig and bust along with it), cutting it cleanly in half. It screamed furiously, black fumes spewing from it towards them in anger.

"Well, shit."

* * *

"Get back to the entrance!" Ulquiorra roared to Ron and Hermione as he and Grimmjow ran from the black smoke of Doom.

"What? What happened?" Hermione's voice was faint as Grimmjow and Ulquiorra ran around junk piles and down paths surrounded by useless objects, pursued by the diadem's last act of Voldemort induced vengeance.

"JUST DO IT!" Ulquiorra shot a curse behind him randomly. It didn't really work. They skidded around a corner and crashed into someone. It was Malfoy.

"Oh, for the love of Aizen." Ulquiorra muttered as he grabbed Malfoy's wrist, ignoring the surprised and angry yelp and kept on running. Grimmjow followed, not caring enough about Crabbe and Goyle, who had accompanied Malfoy, to grant the courtesy of trying to save their lives like Ulquiorra had. Crabbe shot Crucio at Ulquiorra. "Are you serious?!" Ulquiorra yelled. An Avada Kedrava came next, causing Ulquiorra to lurch to the side to dodge it. "Apparently, yes."

* * *

Bright side: The Horcrux remains had run out of steam and was dead.

Down side: Crabbe and Goyle (and Malfoy, Ulquiorra supposed) were trying to kill them.

"WHEN THE FUCK DID THEY LEARN TO USE FIENDFYRE?!" Grimmjow bellowed as he and Ulquiorra dashed madly away from the (out of control) flames, Ulquiorra still dragging Malfoy along.

"The Carrows?" Ulquiorra guessed, pushing Malfoy aside and jumping forward into a somersault to dodge the fire (which was now in the form of a giant serpent) that snapped at his neck (probably. It could also have been aiming for his entire head). Grimmjow blasted a junk pile out of their way and Ulquiorra waved his wand and the junk shot past them and collided with the giant fire snake thingy. It bought them about 10 seconds. They (and Malfoy, who as following behind them, screaming like a little girl) turned sharply, the Fiendfyre in hot pursuit, haphazardly crashing and setting towers of stuff on fire in its wake.

"Harry!" Ulquiorra looked up to see Ron and Hermione soaring above them on broomsticks. "What happened?"

"Crabbe's an idiot and knows how to summon Fiendfyre! What do you think?!" Ulquiorra shouted at them. "Where's the exit?"

"This way!" Hermione called, narrowly dodging a jet of fire from the Fire Snake Thing (FST).

_**Oh great. **_Murciélago grumbled. **_It's hot, we could potentially die of heatstroke, and it has babies._**

_Babies? _

Ulquiorra turned his head around mid-run and saw, true to Murciélago's statement, several smaller FSTs had sprouted from the main one and set upon burning the entire room to ash, as well as attempting to roast Ron and Hermione in the air like marshmallows. Ulquiorra coughed on smoke and the world swayed. "Urgh." He moaned, before stumbling on to follow Ron and Hermione, Grimmjow half dragging him along.

Ulquiorra zoned/sorta blacked out for the remainder of their little escapade through the Room of Requirement, but was brought back to reality as cold, dusty air hit him in the face. He coughed, and collapsed to the ground, trying to take in as much fresh air as he could amidst the terrible hacking. Grimmjow slumped against the wall, groaning. Hermione and Ron were already there, eyes watery from the smoke, skin smudged with black, and wearing identical terrified looks. "Harry?" Hermione whispered, and Ulquiorra moaned in response, his coughing fit over. Malfoy had apparently made it out with them, and was curled into himself in a little ball, shivering. "Crabbe and Goyle..."

"They here?" Ulquiorra rasped, throat dry and Malfoy shook his head. "Then they're dead. Sorry." Malfoy whimpered. Four heads turned to the sound of dueling in the corridor.

The Death Eaters had penetrated the castle.

* * *

The world seemed to explode. Someone had attacked the corridor itself, and Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, Ron, Hermione, Percy and Fred, whom they had met up with, were blasted in the air. Debris, chunks of stone and painting remains pelted them all as they were thrown to the ground, dust rising up like a swarm of mosquitoes. Ulquiorra managed to summoned a hasty, but weak, Shield Charm and wasn't too badly injured, but was buried in wreckage and slabs of ceiling. He managed to crawl his way out and blinked dust out of his eyes. He stood up and heard rubble shift near him. Someone with impressive height stood up as well. "Grimm-"

There was a scream; not of pain or fear, but of soul crushing grief and agony. It was a cry of grief that could only mean one thing. Ulquiorra turned and stumbled through the thick air that was finally clearing up and looked ahead. Ron, Percy, and Hermione was all bent over a still body. They were crying and yelling and begging for the body to wake up but Ulquiorra was looking ahead at the young man standing behind them, looking utterly confused, a broken chain sticking out his chest.

"Why am I on the ground?" Fred's plus asked confused. "I'm right here. Hey, Ron. Perce, I'm right here." He tried to poke Ron's shoulder, but it passed right through. Ulquiorra felt grief stab him.

"Well," Grimmjow muttered next to Ulquiorra, making sure to be quiet so the remaining Weaselys and Hermione couldn't hear him. "That's gotta be awkward." Ulquiorra glared at him. "Come on." Ulquiorra murmured to Grimmjow, carefully stepping around the Weasely family and Hermione, who were too involved in their grief (understandably) to notice.

"Fred." Ulquiorra said quietly, catching the plus's attention. Fred's spirit turned to him and grinned wide. "Harry!" He exclaimed, looking relieved. "Thank Merlin! Someone's finally talking to me!" He frowned. "Why isn't anyone talking to me?" Ulquiorra shook his head. "You...you died, Fred." Fred blinked. "Eh?"

"Dead." Grimmjow repeated. "Kicked the bucket, pushed up daisies, will be buried six-feet under, you know the drill." Fred blinked at him too. Ulquiorra sighed. And punched Grimmjow for good measure.

"At any rate," Ulquiorra continued, ignoring Grimmjow nursing his punched arm and curses, "You're dead from the explosion. You're a spirit now." Fred nodded slowly. "Is that why there's a giant broken chain coming from my chest?"

"Yes."

"...I'm not a ghost right? 'Cuz I don't wanna be a ghost. Being a ghost sounds really boring."

"You're not a ghost."

"Okay." Fred smiled, relieved. "Good." Fred shifted awkwardly. "Gotta say, this is weird. Being dead and all." Ulquiorra shrugged. "You get used to it."

"...What?"

"Nothing." Ulquiorra said hastily, "But we need to find a Grim Reaper to send you on."

"On to where?" Fred asked. "I mean, the afterlife obviously," He said quickly, to clarify that he wasn't stupid, "but where exactly is it?"

"How should I know about the British afterlife?"

"Well, you seem to know about everything else, mate."

"He's got you there."

"Shut up, Grimmjow." Ulquiorra rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Alright, we-"

"Uh, Harry?" Ulquiorra looked at Fred, who as pointing towards the direction his body was in. The corridor was, for some unknown reason, being invaded by the giant spiders.

"Well, shit." Ulquiorra concluded, grabbing Grimmjow and Fred and running. "Run!"

"But what about my body?!"

"No time!"

"Come off it mate! I need that for my funeral! I want to be poised in a hugging position or something funny like that! I can't have that happen if my body's eaten by a horde of bloody spiders!"

"NOT NOW FRED!"

* * *

"Dementors." Ulquiorra snarled at the impending cloaked figures. "I hate Dementors." Fred's plus staggered next to them, before collapsing. "Ugh."

"What the hell?" Grimmjow asked, looking a grayish pale as the Dementors got closer. Grimmjow hauled the passed out plus over his shoulder and slowly began to back away with Ulquiorra as the Dementors drifted closer. "What's with him?"

"Dementors feed on souls," Ulquiorra said, "With him being dead and separated from his body..."

"Man, that's gotta _suck_." Grimmjow whistled. Or tried to. The Dementors weren't really helping his whistling ability. "Alright, something happy..." Grimmjow tried to cast a Patronus, but only got wispy smoke. "Dammit, what's happy?"

"The time Halibel gave Nnoitora that utterly humiliating smackdown for being a sexist douche?" Ulquiorra suggested, because even when he was an Espada, he thought that was awesome. Or as awesome as the then emotionless Arrancar could think something was at the time. Grimmjow tilted his head, and cast his Patronus again, the large panther bursting out and bounding towards the Dementors as Ulquiorra's Murciélago Patronus swiftly followed. As the Dementors dispersed, Grimmjow chuckled.

"Yeah, that _was_ pretty great."

* * *

"Voldemort's in the Shrieking Shack," Ulquiorra told Grimmjow (and Plus Fred, who was sorta tagging along simply out of not knowing what to do now that he was dead), "He's got Nagini with him and just sent for Snape."

"He's not even doing anything?" Fred said indignantly. Ulquiorra shrugged. "I suppose he doesn't think he needs to. He thinks I'll come to him."

"Which he will." Grimmjow added, jabbing his thumb at Ulquiorra. Fred scowled. "Still. Bloody sod."

"Amen to that."

* * *

"Hello." The three (Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, and Plus Fred) stared at the strange teenager in front of them. He was a couple of inches shorter then Ulquiorra in a formal suit, tie, dress shoes, black gloves and fedora. He had wavy blond-brown hair that was black in back. A stubborn cowlick stuck out from under the hat. He had green yellow eyes, and glasses with thick pentagonal lenses. There was a strange watch on his wrist and he carried a thick book with little pink and yellow leafs of paper sticking out of the pages at random intervals.

But was really weird was the fact that he was leaning against a lawn mower.

A freakin' _lawn mower._

"Er...Hello." Ulquiorra said after a long pause. The lawn mower owner frowned at something behind them. "Man, look at that." He said frustratedly. "That's gonna require _so _much overtime." He shook his head. "Alright, I want to get this over with. I don't _do _overtime." The three wizards blinked at him as he rifled through his giant book. "Let's see..." He glanced at Fred, "Red hair, freckles, wizard-Fred Weasely." He said, pointing to something in his book. "Hmmm...Date of birth April 1, 1978, died on May 2, 1998 age 20. Co-creator of Weasely Wizard Wheezes and identical twin to George Weasely." He looked up. "That right?"

"Uh, yeah." Fred said. "Who the ruddy hell are you?" The book snapped shut and the teen grinned. "_I am the next Reaper, Ronald 'To Die!_ " He said jokingly to their blank faces, his right hand brought up to the side of his face in half a fist, with his index and pink fingers standing up. He stayed still for a moment, judging their reaction before slouching and sighing. "Yeah, it's terrible right? Grell said I needed a catchphrase. I told him it didn't work the last time, but he _insisted_ I try it again." He stuck out a hand, and Fred shook it. "Ronald Knox. Grim Reaper." Fred raised his eyebrows but grinned in a friendly manner. "Cool. I think. You gonna send me on?"

"Yeah. Hey, do me a favor." Fred looked at Ronald quizzically, "Join the Grim Reaper Academy and prank the hell of William T. Spears. Trust me, you'll want to once you meet him." Fred grinned. "Will do. Is the afterlife fun?"

"It's as boring as hell!" Ronald laughed. "You seem fun though, if your cinematic record means anything. We should hang out sometime once you get to Avalon. I seriously need a wingman. Everyone else is too busy with overtime because their Death Scythes aren't efficient enough. Besides, Grell anyway." The Grim Reaper winked at Fred, who grinned wickedly at the thought of all the mischief that could be achieved. "Look me up when you get there, I know all the good parties and cute girls. Especially the receptionists."

Now, my Death Scythe needs to eat your chain. Quicker this way." He clarified, pulling a cord and revving up the lawn mover. "Avoids overtime."

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow stared as the Grim Reaper's lawn mower casually _ate_ Fred's soul chain until it hit the base. That's when Fred's form glowed blue and was sucked into the lawn mower's back compartment. Ronald Knox promptly checked something off in his thick book before nodding to them. "Later Shinigami." He said and casually _rode _his lawn mower (which they assumed was his Zanpaktou (equivalent)) into the castle. A pause, and over the explosions, screaming, and curses they could hear the faint sound of metal crunching on metal and saw faint blue light flash, along with pen scribbling on paper.

"That...was weird." Grimmjow said. "Even for a Death god."

_**I didn't feel a spirit in his Death Scythe. Their Death Scythes must be **_**made****_ for them, like weapons and tools. Or something._**

_...That...is weird._

_**I know right? Anyway, Voldemort. Snape. Nagini. Things shall be done.**_

_Right._

* * *

_**Well, that's just MEAN. **_Murciélago thought as Voldemort waved his wand and killed Snape by trapping his head and shoulders in the blind Nagini's spherical shimmering cage.

While Nagini was still inside, naturally.

Ulquiorra knew the snake, although blind, would easily be able to hear the man's frantic heartbeat; smell the Potion Master's fear. The snake lunged, and sank its sharp fangs deep into the sallow man's neck. Snape screamed, a bloodcurdling scream of pain and fear and desperation, then fell to the floor as his knees crumpled. The cage was removed and Voldemort swiftly turned away.

"I regret it." Voldemort said coldly before sweeping out of the room, Nagini following.

* * *

"Uh, I think he's leaking memories." Grimmjow said pointing to Snape's dying and convulsing body. Ulquiorra, who knelt beside him, nodded. "Yes, he is." He said mildly. "I should collect those." He conjured a flask and collected the silvery substance with his wand and filled the container.

"Take...take them..." Snape choked out, too delirious from rapid blood loss to see Ulquiorra was already taking the memories. "Yes sir. I'm taking them now." Ulquiorra placated, corking the flask firmly and in clear sight (clear if he wasn't dying from a poisonous snake bite at any rate) of the Professor. Snape clawed feebly at Ulquiorra's wrist. Ulquiorra, who had a grudging respect for the man, made the little life he had easier on him and grasped his hand (eye twitching at the contact).

"Look . . . at . . . me. . . ." Snape whispered, his hand slackening in Ulquiorra's grip. Ulquiorra's dark emerald eyes bored into Snape's obsidian black ones. The light that made the glistening orbs shine was dulling rapidly. "...Close...e...nough..." Snape gasped, before his eyes became completely blank and his head lolled. Ulquiorra set the dead man's hand in his lap and stood away, pocketing the flask. He turned slightly to the left.

"Hello Professor." The sallow plus stared at Ulquiorra, before his eyes darted back to his body then back again.

"This way, please. A Grim Reaper will tend to you if you'll follow me."

* * *

The three made it to the Entrance Hall. Ulquiorra tsked. "What a mess," he muttered, stepping around the splintered banister wood, the scattered emeralds from the Slytherin House cup, and fallen rubble littering the ground. "This will be a real bitch to clean." Ulquiorra turned to Grimmjow, ignoring the confused and scowling plus behind them. "Do you see the Grim Reaper?" He asked, and the cat peered around, frowning. "We need to find him, Snape's chain is eroding-"

"PLUSES! OI, PLUSES! OVER HERE!" They turned to the boisterous yell to see the strange Ronald Knox standing in front of rubble pile near the Grand Staircase, his book of souls in hand, casually leaning on his lawn mower, a long line of dead spirits in front of him. "ALL THOSE WITH THEIR SOUL CHAINS ERODING GET TO CUT THE LINE! Name please?" He stopped yelling and asked as a young woman with dirty blonde hair and pale dirt and blood streaked skin hesitantly walked up to the strange Reaper. "L-Lavender Brown."

"Brown...Brown- Lavender Brown, born August 3 1979, died May 2 1998. Known for showing a lot of affection and charmingly cute looks." The last part was said with a waggling of eyebrows and a suggestive glance. Lavender blushed. "Uh..."

"Eh, nevermind. Back to work. Higher ups don't see complimenting pretty girls as an excuse to avoid overtime, after all!" His lawn mower was quickly revved up and her soul chain quickly devoured by the machine, and her soul stored safely. Ulquiorra shrugged and grabbed Snape's forearm and dragged the sputtering man to the front of the line. Ignoring the angry snarls of his name, Ulquiorra pushed Snape in front of Ronald Knox. "Here. His chain is eroding." Ronald Knox stared at Snape speculatively. "Name." Snape glared before jumping as his soul chain viciously devoured another fragment of itself. He straightened and composed himself with a death glare.

"...Severus Snape."

"Snape eh? Snape...Snape! Severus Snape, born January 9, 1960, died May 2, 1998. Son of Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince. Man, your family's got some strange names, even for us English." Ronald grinned. Snape was not amused. Ronald coughed. "Anyway. Next stop, Avalon."

* * *

One magical guilt trip/warning from Voldemort later that summoned Ulquiorra to the Forbidden Forest later, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow moved toward the Great Hall. The great tables meant to seat cheerful students had been cleared away to make room for the fallen. The dead were lined up neatly with friends and family mourning over them, friends wailing in despair over their fallen comrades, and parents and siblings sobbing over their dead relatives. Ulquiorra spotted Pavarti weeping over Lavender's mangled body a little ways down. Grimmjow had run off, probably looking for Luna, when Ulquiorra spotted the Weasely family and Hermione. All were surrounding Fred, with George kneeling over the dead ginger's head, and Mrs. Weasely draped over Fred's chest, shaking with sobs.

"Harry." Ulquiorra turned. "Sirius. I'm glad you survived." Sirius grinned tightly. "Only round one." Sirius turned to face the Weaselys. "Another family torn apart thanks to Voldemort."

"This is war. There are consequences."

Sirius sighed. "You sound twenty years too old, you know that?"

"Naturally." Ulquiorra scoffed. "Where's Remus?"

On the outside, Ulquiorra was as cool as the stones of the Las Noches Palace. On the inside:

_Please don't be dead, __**Please don't be dead**__, Please don't be dead, __**Please don't be dead**__-_

"Hello Harry. Good to see you."

_**Thank Aizen.**_

* * *

With Remus and Sirius alive, and Remus assured that Tonks was (unwillingly) out of danger, Ulquiorra moved to find Grimmjow. Grimmjow was with Luna and Neville in a corner. Neither were injured to badly, just some cuts, scrapes and bruises. Grimmjow was laughing at something Luna said, and Neville was chuckling wearily with him as Ulquiorra approached. Ulquiorra grabbed Grimmjow by the ear and dragged him towards the Great Hall's doors. "Come. We have work to do."

"OW! Fine! Just let GO-**OW! SON OF A BITCH!"**

* * *

Ulquiorra starred. Grimmjow starred. "...So, he was always a little sallow bat man, huh?" Grimmjow finally asked, as they watched young Severus spy on two young girls on a swing set. The younger of the girls, a slight little thing with dark red hair, laughed and called out something to the other, before launching off the swing. She flew through the air, soft and graceful, lingering in the air too long and landing too lightly for a natural descent.

"Mummy said you weren't allowed, Lily!" The oldest shrieked as she slowly ground her heels into the ground to stop her swing. The youngest giggled happily and said something along the lines of it not mattering.

"Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do." Ulquiorra blanched, and turned to the young Snape, who looked at young Lily Evans longingly. "That," Ulquiorra said, "is so wrong." Grimmjow turned to the younger wizard, disregarding Petunia's shrieks as Lily made a daisy preform tricks with her underage magic. "What?"

"That's my mother and aunt." Grimmjow gaped. "Seriously?" He turned to see Snape struggle (and fail) to make a good impression on young Lily and laughed. "Man, life must really hate you."

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow observed several more memories of Snape's childhood, all focusing on Lily Evans. The two talking about Hogwarts in a secluded clearing, their first train ride there, their Sorting. There was even a memory of Snape being an insecure twit about Ulquiorra's father. The two continued to watch as Snape effectively destroyed his friendship with Ulquiorra's mother by instinctively being the Anti-Muggle Wizard he was raised to be, and how he tried to beg Lily to forgive him. The entire fiasco had Ulquiorra actually pitying Snape.

The next memory was much later in Snape's life, on a dark hilltop with the wind roaring loudly and Snape looking around like a wild animal. There was a flash or white light, and Snape turned to see Dumbledore, looking at him with contempt. Snape proceeded to grovel and beg for Lily's (and by default, Ulquiorra and James's) protection.

And a bargain was struck.

* * *

The next memory was clearly just after Ulquiorra's parents' death, and as Snape sobbed over the loss of the woman he loved (something that squicked out Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, Murciélago, and Pantera to no end), Dumbledore immediately pulled some good old Dumbledore Manipulation and guilt tripped Snape into being Ulquiorra's 'Guardian Angel', so to speak.

"Oh, that's just _mean_."

* * *

"—mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rulebreaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent—"

Grimmjow snickered. Ulquiorra elbowed him in the ribs.

* * *

"No," agreed Dumbledore. "You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon . . . "

Dumbledore then walked away, leaving Snape stricken with the thought of better belonging to the Lion than the Serpent. Grimmjow shook his head. "Seriously, that's just _**mean." **_

* * *

The pair watched as Snape lectured Dumbledore on his sheer stupidity of putting the cursed Horcrux, Marvolo's ring, on. Dumbledore asked how much time he had, and Snape replied a year at most. Dumbledore seemed relieved, and began to discuss with Snape about the plan to have Malfoy murder the Headmaster.

"Are you intending to let him kill you?"

"Certainly not. You must kill me." There was a silence. Ulquiorra raised his eyebrows while Grimmjow gaped. They watched the two continue to discuss Dumbledore's impending death, with Dumbledore, quite characteristically, guilt tripping Snape into mercy killing him.

The memory swirled away and Ulquiorra coughed awkwardly. "Well...looks like I didn't need to have killed him."

_**Awkward.**_

* * *

Ulquiorra's eyebrow twitched. Okay, he would admit he did not think highly of Dumbledore. He never thought highly of Dumbledore. He didn't even _like _Dumbledore (most of the time), but this took the cake.

"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?" Snape asked in horror, and Ulquiorra thought it was a sad day indeed that Severus Snape seemed to be more concerned for Ulquiorra's health than Albus Dumbledore. Than again, Ulquiorra supposed he shouldn't have been surprised.

* * *

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow finally watched as Snape managed to track down their movements to the frozen forest they had crashed at months ago, and, removing the sword of Gryffindor from a hidden compartment in the wall behind Dumbledore's portrait, swear to Dumbledore('s portrait) that he had a plan to give them the sword.

Shortly after that memory, Ulquiorra and Grimmjow were expelled from Snape's memories and back into the Headmaster's office that they had broken into a short while earlier. There was a pause.

"..._Man,_ life really kicked that guy in the balls, huh?"

* * *

"Well, I'm off to go and 'die' now," Ulquiorra said casually as he and Grimmjow descended the stairs. Grimmjow yawned. "Okay. What do I do?" Ulquiorra stopped to think. "I'm not sure, actually." he admitted. Grimmjow shrugged. "Eh, I'll stick around. Throw everyone off your trail, and stuff."

"Alright. Sounds good to me."

* * *

Ulquiorra reached the edge of the forest and pulled out the long forgotten Snitch from his pack and eyed the message curiously. _I open at the close_. Geez, Dumbledore was also so vague. He pressed it against his mouth. "I am about to die", it clicked open, revealing a dull black stone with a jagged crack down the middle. He tilted the Snitch and let the Resurrection Stone drop into his palm. He examined it curiously. He turned it three times when the people he wanted to appear came to mind. He heard them behind him and braced himself for the inevitable (if it worked that is).

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE, SNAPE?"

Yeah. It worked.

* * *

His father was the same height as him, wearing the clothes he died in with lopsided glasses. The three he summoned were not ghosts, but they were clearly not alive. The seemed to waver when they moved, like a very clear, realistic projection. James Potter glared at the second man Ulquiorra summoned, the recently deceased Severus Snape. Snape looked surprised to be there. "I assure you, Potter, I have no idea why I am present." Snape sneered. "Of course, if you had a single thought in your thick head, you'd know that." James's eyebrow twitched. Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. So, this was his father. Figured. Leaving the two rivals to bicker, he turned to the remaining person, who was staring at Snape, also utterly confused as why he was there. She had long red hair and her eyes were almond shaped, and brilliant green. Unlike his, they seemed to glow with their bright color. While Ulquiorra's eyes were dark emerald, hers were like shining jade.

"Hello Mother." he said quietly, and she turned to him and smiled lovingly. Ulquiorra shifted awkwardly. "We're so proud," she said softly, "You've been so brave." Ulquiorra starred at her sadly. "You don't know what I've done," he realized, "You don't know who I am. You cannot see the Living World in Death." Lily Potter tilted her head, puzzled. "What do you mean, Harry? Sweetheart, Dumbledore told us what you've done. We're so proud." Ulquiorra stared. Okay, that was unexpected.

"Well, that's just _**awkward.**_" a cheery voice echoed behind him and Lily jumped back, while James instinctively reached for his wand, despite that he had been dead for the last 17 years. Snape just twitched with recognition at the voice. Ulquiorra felt Murciélago drape her self over his him, so that her large breasts hung over his (surprisingly) broad shoulder, and her elbows were also propped on said shoulder, cradling her face with her hands. Ulquiorra rolled his eyes at her impromptu materialization. Her tail swished back and forth before coming up to lounge on Ulquiorra's other shoulder. "Dumbledore told you? Jeez, and he's the one who sent you on this death trap, eh?"

"Murciélago," Ulquiorra hissed, "What are you doing?" Murciélago pouted. "Aw, come on! Can't I introduce myself to the 'rents? And Snape." She added, before nodding cheerfully to the sallow man. "Hiya Snape! It's been awhile."

"Too long." Snape muttered. "I wasn't aware that you more than a figment in Potter's head." Murciélago hummed happily, flicking her tail in a "Ph-shaw!" motion. "Anyways, Master-"

"_Master?"_

"-I'm ready for action! Everything's set up." Ulquiorra nodded. "Good. Thanks." Murciélago saluted. "No prob. Later Master!" With that, Murciélago immediately dissolved into black smoke and returned to his inner world. Ulquiorra sighed, before turning to Snape. "Well, before I wanted to do this, I just wanted to thank you." Snape looked vaguely nauseous. "Now, this is horribly uncomfortable for the both of us, so I'll make this quick. Thank you for looking after me, and for becoming Dumbledore's bitch in order to keep me safe. It means a lot that someone would actually brave his manipulation just for me." Snape nodded stiffly, and Ulquiorra returned the stiff nod, and held up the stone to return him to the afterlife. "Oh," Ulquiorra remembered, "I'm, uh, sorry that I killed Dumbledore." His parents head immediately whipped over to him from staring flabbergasted at Snape. "That apparently interfered with some of your plans. Sorry about that." Snape actually smirked in amusement before Ulquiorra turned the stone in the opposite direction three times, sending Snape back to Death. Ulquiorra turned to his parents. "Well, shall we?" And with that, Ulquiorra turned on his heel and strode into the forest, hands in his pockets.

* * *

"What did you mean, _kill _Albus?" James asked as the Potters made their way through the forest. "You didn't actually kill him right?"

"'Course I did." Ulquiorra said casually, "Never liked him, saw an opportunity to save an innocent soul...It seemed a good idea at the time."

"Harry!"

"What? It's not like I haven't killed people before..."

"_Excuse me?"_

"Really, Mother, you're making too big a deal out of this-"

"I most certainly am not!"

"It was a different time. And it just was a couple thousand Pluses and Hollows...and some Shinigami."

"WHAT?"

"I was hungry!"

"You talk like you were a lost spirit monster!"

"But I was!"

"What!?"

"Like I said, it was a different time!"

"Harry James Potter, the second you're dead, you are grounded!"

"_Mother!"_

"Uh, Lils, isn't that a little harsh? I mean, he's about to die-"

"You want to finish that sentence, _dear?_"

"Sorry son, you're on your own."

"...Thanks, Father."

* * *

"Hello, everyone. I'm here." Ulquiorra said coolly, stepping into the clearing where Voldemort sat with his followers and Nagini. "Sorry. I'm not late, am I?"

* * *

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said softly, and maybe with a little awe, "The Boy Who Lived". Ulquiorra grimaced. "I really hate that title," Ulquiorra muttered.

"Funny," Voldemort said coldly, "I am also not fond of it." Ulquiorra gave him a dead stare. "Of course not. It's a huge reminder of how you, at the height of you power, failed to kill a defensless _baby_. I see no conceivable reason why you would enjoy such a title." Voldemort's face, the area where there were supposed to be eyebrows, twitched.

"Well, shall we?" Ulquiorra said, drawing his wand from his pants pocket and raising it, the other in the opposite pocket and stroking the Stone, and Voldemort laughed. "Oh no, dear Harry. There will be no fight here. Not tonight."

"Humor me?" Voldemort smiled cruelly. "No." and pointed his wand directly at Ulquiorra's heart. "Avada Kedavra."

* * *

Ulquiorra blinked and saw treetops and stars. He sat up and saw all the Death Eaters crowded around a collapsed Voldemort. They didn't notice Ulquiorra sit up and Ulquiorra saw why, he had been kicked out of his human containment. Next to him was a teenager. He had dark hair, snow white skin and blood red irises. His fingers were long and he was dressed in black robes. Despite that he was clearly the Horcurx within Ulquiorra, as indicated by the broken chain that was only halfway from peeling completely off his chest. He had human features; a nose, handsome cheekbones and eyebrows. His eyes, although inhumanly colored, had whites. Voldequiorra stared at him and Ulquiorra stared back. "Hey." Ulquiorra said. "Hello." Voldequiorra sounded resigned, as if he had known this day was coming for years, which he did. "What next? And what's with that outfit?"

Ulquiorra looked down and himself and saw, to his horror, he was garbed in Shinigami robes. The three-quarter sleeves, the black shihakshou, the traditional socks and sandals and Murciélago at his waist. He stared in slight repulsion before giving a big sigh of acceptance. He drew Murciélago and flipped the blade around so the hilt base was facing Voldequiorra. Voldequiorra leaned away. "Uh, what are you-?"

"Goodbye." Ulquiorra said before stamping Voldequiorra's forehead with a Konso. Immediately, two large doors appeared behind the two. Each door had a skeleton torso pinned to it, with a skeletal hand crossed to open the doors. The skulls wore bloody bandages. The gates opened a a sucking wind began drawing Voldequiorra to the gates. "Is this hell?" Voldequiorra yelled over the wind only the two souls could hear and feel.

"Yes."

"Damn. Well, goodbye, Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Is-Dead!" And with that, Voldequiorra was sucked into Hell, and the Gates slammed closed and disappeared.

* * *

Ulquiorra watched as Voldemort recovered and sent Narcissa to check his body. She proclaimed him dead, and cheers went up all around, along with massive sobs. Ulquiorra turned and blanched a bit as he finally noticed Hagrid, previously gagged, tied to a tree. Oops.

* * *

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes as Voldemort, high on triumph and drunk with arrogance, tossed his body in the air with his wand. Once, twice, and finally a third before the Dark Wizard let the body lay limp on the forest floor. Ulquiorra's wand dropped silently on the ground from his body's limp hand. No one noticed such a minor detail, and Ulquiorra snuck over and picked up the stick with pale fingers. He stuck it next to Murciélago.

He followed the Death Eaters from the air, in order to avoid the Dementors as much as possible, as they forced Hagrid, given the task to carry Ulquiorra's body, forward. Soon enough they reached the castle and Voldemort called Hogwarts's occupants out, and Ulquiorra winced at all the agonized screams that tore from his allies throats at the sight of his body. Grimmjow spotted him from below and smirked, before reaching out and tugging Luna's wrist and whispering in her ear, pointing at Ulquiorra in the sky. She looked up, and unnoticed by everyone else, smiled with pure relief, eyes teary. She gave a dreamy wave and Ulquiorra waved back.

He watched calmly as Voldemort sprouted bullshit about their confrontation in the forest, and saw Ron, surprisingly enough, come to his defense. This triggered defiant screams and Neville Longbottom actually _charging _at Lord Voldemort. Ulquiorra facepalmed, but inwardly was impressed at the sheer gall of the act. Neville, naturally, was quickly disarmed, because despite his new confidence and skill, Voldemort was still an opponent out of his league.

Voldemort was also impressed with Neville's bold action, and offered him a spot among the Death Eaters. Nagini, now free of the protective cage now that Ulquiorra was 'dead', slithered at his feet.

* * *

Neville refused, and, now bound via magic and set aflame from the Sorting Hat that was forcibly placed upon his head, slowly began to burn.

And all hell broke loose.

* * *

Ulquiorra wasn't completely sure where everyone was coming from, really. The giant, the centaurs, the house-elves. Seriously, how did everyone fit in the damn castle?

Ulquiorra took the moment to get back into his body when the centaurs and Hogsmeade shopkeepers, led be Grawp, randomly attacked the Death Eaters while Neville broke free of the body-bind and pulled Gryffindor's sword from the Sorting Hat and sliced, poor, blind and confused Nagini's head off. Ulquiorra popped up, patted Hagrid on the arm quickly, before dashing off, ignoring the loud cries of his human name.

He cast a water charm and put out the Sorting Hat before blending into the crowd. He found Grimmjow, grinning like a lunatic. Grimm had forgone his wand and had his sword in shikai, something Ulquiorra had not seen before. It was a pair of black fingerless gloves, with long blades working as retractable claws sliding in and out of the fabric over Grimmjow's knuckles. A passing wizards knowledgeable of the Muggle World called out something about "Wolverine" and "X-Men".

"Hey!" Grimmjow yelled, clawing a Death Eater in the face, before kicking him into a wall. "You're alive!"

"Alive enough, anyway." Ulquiorra muttered, summoning Murciélago's sword and stabbing a passing Death Eater. "You seen Voldemort?"

"No! Seen Luna?! Said something about Bellatrix!"

"Great Hall, I think."

* * *

"Oh, there's Luna. She's dueling Bellatrix with-"

"HELL NO!"

"Erm..." Ulquiorra watched as Grimmjow dashed towards Bellatrix, deflecting incoming curses with his claws. He roughly pushed Luna behind him and out of the way, before barking at everyone else to back off. He continued to dodge and deflect Bellatrix's spells and turned his head to Mrs. Weasely, who was attempting to join him, and yelled, "Back off lady, the crazy bitch is mine!", and fired a small mock-Cero at Bellatrix who shrieked with insane laughter as she threw herself out of the way.

"Yeah...I'll leave you to that."

* * *

Ulquiorra made his way to Voldemort, noting that even Kingsley, McGonagall, and Slughorn combined were barely equal to his power. He put a hand on Murciélago, ready to draw, when he heard a loud cackling shriek. He turned to see Grimmjow dodge Bellatrix's last curse, and impale her stomach with four extended claws, palm up; Grimmjow's oldest signature move. Bellatrix gurgled blood and coughed, no longer laughing. Grimmjow held up his other hand, and sneered "Later Crazy." He incinerated her head with his Cero imitation before shoving the remaining body off his claws to thud to the floor.

Ulquiorra whipped around to see Voldemort scream in fury as his most loyal and best Lieutenant collapsed, his rage exploding like a grenade, sending McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn flying. Voldemort's wand pointed at Grimmjow and fired a curse. Or he would have, if Ulquiorra hadn't intervened.

"Sorry," Ulquiorra muttered, charging up his own bright Avada Kedavra green Cero imitation, wincing slightly at the feeling. He hadn't realized that charging up Ceros (or mock Ceros) stung. He must've never realized because of his former steel skin. "You didn't give me a fight, so I won't give you one." And with that, he fired and incinerated the most powerful wand in existence, leaving Voldemort wandless and at Ulquiorra's mercy.

* * *

Voldemort stared in utter shock, red eyes wide, as his undefeatable wand crumbled into ash in his hand, and turned to the source of the green light that ended his weapon's existence. Ulquiorra stood in front of him. "Hello again." Ulquiorra said, stepping forward, hand on Murciélago's hilt. "Been awhile."

He removed his hand from his blade to raise it to silence the now screaming and ecstatic crowd. "Everyone, calm down and stay back. This is my fight." Ulquiorra tilted his head. "Well, my kill anyway."

* * *

"So, this is it then." Ulquiorra said thoughtfully. "The climax to our little tale. Disappointing really."

"Potter doesn't mean that," Voldemort said, his red eyes wide. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Shield? I don't use shields. Intentionally, at any rate." Ulquiorra said. "I will kill you all by myself."

"With what? That sword? A _muggle _weapon. Or is it love again?" said Voldemort, his snake's face jeering. "Dumbledore's favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter— and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you from dying now when I strike?"

"Strike?" Ulquiorra asked. "Strike with what? In case you hadn't noticed, I _vaporized_ your wand. And you shouldn't underestimate love." Voldemort scoffed. "Love can bring monsters to their knees, you see. It can mold them, transform them. It can birth feelings that make a non-existant heart beat."

"And what would you, Harry dear, know of monsters?"

"I used to be one." Ulquiorra replied. "Long ago. Before you, perhaps even before Dumbledore, I don't know. I lost track of time. One tends to when one is starving."

"I was unfeeling. I was alone. I didn't care for life. Unfeeling, cold. And hungry. I was very hungry." Ulquiorra continued. "I simply wanted to survive, nothing more. So I ate." He could feel their eyes on him, confused eyes wondering what the hell he was talking about. "See, the thing is that it doesn't even taste good. But the hunger tricks you into thinking it's the best tasting meal in the world."

"And what, pray tell, would this meal be?" Voldemort sneered and Ulquiorra smirked. "Why, humans of course." Ulquiorra chuckled lightly among the gasps and screams of horror and disgust. "Humans are very soft, and Hollows are tough. They are stringy and hard, but they satisfy the hunger. The craving for power. Power," Ulquiorra said, "is the only way to survive that place. No good. No evil. Only power and survival. You told me something similar once." He drew his sword. "I became powerful, powerful enough to regain a human form, to get a sword. The price was my heart." He tapped his sternum. "No emotion, no love. Nothing. I would kill, if told to. Only, if ordered, but nevertheless. Killing was easy, wouldn't you agree?

"I had a master, a Lord, like yourself, only he could crush you like a bug. I greatly respected him. In a world of trash, he was something of worth. He brought a woman one day. A human woman, and assigned me to be her warden. She was a prisoner, and I had to make sure she ate. She was...pure. Innocent. Full of emotion and love and courage. I didn't understand her, of course. I was curious. What was a Heart? If I cracked open her skull, would it be there? If I tore her chest apart, would I find it? No. I wouldn't, because its here." he opened his hand and stared down at it. "The Heart is here, in my hand. She gave me one." He walked toward the taunt, shocked and scared wizard. "I was dying, and she gave me a Heart. She gave my the Heart to feel again. To forge bonds and friendships and love. And that is why I am going to win. Because I'm not alone. I'm never alone." He raised the tip of his sword to rest of Voldemort's heart. "I have friends and my woman. Maybe not always with me in body, but I can feel their presence with my Heart. And I am never alone. Not to mention," Ulquiorra added, feeling his Demon Bat claw up his back to his perch on his shoulder. "I'll always have Murciélago with me. Right, Murciélago?"

"Right Master!" she chirped happily among the screams and Grimmjow's roaring laughter. Voldemort was frozen, silent. "Can we kill him now? I'm getting bored."

* * *

It was very simple, and very anticlimactic. To be blunt:

Ulquiorra stabbed Voldemort in the chest. Voldemort screamed in pain/anger and coughed up blood. Voldemort died.

And that... was pretty much the entire final showdown.

"Phft. LAME."

"Shut UP, Grimmjow!"

* * *

"...So. Now what?" Grimmjow asked as the two sat down on a bench. The house tables had been put back, but everyone was jumbled together. Neville was surrounded by admirers, sword of Gryffindor on the table in front of him, and Ron and Hermione were God knows where (probably making out somewhere). It was just Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, and Luna. Ulquiorra looked among the masses. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "They have forgotten my speech to Voldemort in the moment, but they'll remember soon enough."

"It was such a moving speech." Luna chimed in happily, sipping a glass of pumpkin juice with an onion cocktail stick. She kicked her legs back and forth happily. Ulquiorra stared at her, in bemused acceptance at the oddity that was Luna Lovegood. "Er, yes." Ulquiorra said. "I meant the eating humans part."

"Oh. Were you once one of the monsters? I see them outside of Hogwarts sometimes. It's why I grow Gurdyroots, you see. They don't like the smell." Grimmjow stared at her. "You're fucking perfect, you know that?" Luna giggled dreamily. "Always and Never."

"I was. So was Grimmjow. I was the stronger one-"

"HEY!"

"-they're called Hollows, because-"

"They're don't have hearts. Is that why they have holes in their chests?"

"...Yes." Ulquiorra frowned. "I don't think anyone will be so rational about this though. They'll ask questions soon.

"I think...It's time I went home."

"Home, Harry?"

"Yes. Home is where the Heart is after all. And by the way Luna," Ulquiorra turned to her and gave her a rare smile. "It's Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra Schiffer."

* * *

**A/N: Anyone notice the Black Butler crossover? Hee hee...  
**

**Epilogue chapter next!  
**


	11. The Heart

**A/N: Epilogue! The Story is done. I would like to thank everyone who stuck with this story for so long from the bottom of my heart. Thank you so much!  
**

**And, the ending.  
**

* * *

_**Epilogue: The Heart**_

Harry Potter, was a _**very**_ patient person.

He's been waiting a long time. And for many things.

He waited for years to find his destiny.

He waited and became the troublesome, mischief maker and academically adept student.

He waited for the knowledge of magic, prophecy and heroes.

He waited for the perfect moment to kill Lord Voldemort, and become the man the Wizarding World needed.

He waited for his woman, his courageous Orihime, and the moment their Hearts could beat together.

He waited for the moment when he could finally be himself, and become Ulquiorra Schiffer.

Ulquiorra has waited and waited.

Ulquiorra has waited long enough.

* * *

Gluttony. Pride. Sloth. Lust. Wrath. Envy. Greed.

Seven sins, seven years, seven horcruxes. These are the things that define Ulquiorra Schiffer. These are the things that made him human.

The Seven Sins that were kindled in his dead heart, so long ago, and burst into emotions he hadn't felt for so long.

The Seven Years of learning, developing, growing to be human. Unsteadily figuring out how to be a boy, a teenager, and finally, a man.

The Seven Horcruxes, his destiny. The objects that caused strife and challenge, that pushed him to become compassionate and strong.

Ulquiorra dimly wonders what the world will think, when he disappears without a trace. What will the Wizarding World do when their savior, their Boy-Who-Lived, vanishes off the face of the Earth. He does leave his body behind. He makes a grave next to his parents, a simple white marble plaque that reads no dates, just: _Ulquiorra Schiffer: The Great Winged Demon_. He leaves his body in the ground where only Luna and Grimmjow will find it.

Ulquiorra steps through the strange gate that brings him to Soul Society and squints in the sun. Ulquiorra isn't used to sunlight. The place is uniform, with their Squads organized neatly in a circle and all the buildings look _exactly the same._ That will be annoying.

"You know, Shinigami robes suit you disturbingly well." Ulquiorra turns and purses his black (naturally black, in death) lips in displeasure. "Kurosaki."

The orange haired youth (because he is still, just like Ulquiorra) grins easily. It's a little mocking, but a easy teasing familiarity softens the blow. Ulquiorra kinda hates that. "Well, hello to you too. YO!" Kurosaki suddenly yells out. "INOUE, ULQUIORRA-!"

"Ulquiorra! DUDE!" Unfortunately, it's Kaien who glomps first. Ulquiorra simmers in irritated fondness.

He also kinda hates that.

"Get off me."

"You're here~" Kaien lets him go, thankfully and grins. "Check it out!" He points to the badge on his arm, Ulquiorra looks at it. "That's a six." Ulquiorra notes. "What about the red-haired one? With all the tattoos?"

"Captain now. Eighth Squad."

"I see." Ichigo rolls his eyes. "You'll have to pick a squad of course," He says to Ulquiorra, who raises an eyebrow. "Inoue lobbied for you. She unknowingly has everyone in Soul Society wrapped around her finger, especially Kyōraku. Few years of seat work, and you'll probably be given Vice-Captain or Captain position. We always need new Captains."

"Seriously. Lately, they've been dropping like flies." Kaien interjected. Kurosaki continued. "Inoue's in Fourth obviously, but you'll probably want Sixth...well, if you'll good with dealing with him." He jabbed his thumb towards Kaien, who flashed a thumbs up. "You'd get along with Byakuya though, I bet. I'd stay FAR away from twelve-"

"Research Department?"

"-Yeah. Second might work for you. Third maybe. Seventh and Tenth might work too."

"What about Eleventh and Thirteenth?"

"Ukitake is Thirteenth. He's...very_...doting."_

"Ah."

"And Eleven is basically an entire squad of Grimmjows with one Yumichika."

"...Oh."

_**That. Sounds. AWESOME.**_

_NO._

"ULQUIORRA!" Finally, it's Orihime that gives him the delightfully overwhemling hug. He returns the hug happily, and runs a deathly pale hand through sunset hair. "Hello again, Orihime." He murmurs. "I have taken a long time to get here. My apologies." Orihime giggles.

_**Aw, that's so sappy! I'm gonna bug Zangetsu, yeah?**_

…

_**Taking that as permission, Master! Peace out!**_

As Ulquiorra stands there, in Soul Society, holding the woman he cherishes more than anything, with Kaien laughing at a cursing Kurosaki, who is yelling for Murciélago to get out of his head, he thinks this is perfect.

Feeling bold, Ulquiorra captures _**his **_woman's lips with his and revels in her pleased squeak of surprise.

He has his heart. It's right here, in his hands.

He's done with waiting.

**FIN**

* * *

**A/N: It's over. I'M FREE!  
There will be no sequel to this, since Bleach sucks now. Despite Bleach now sucking, I still read it out of sheer curiosity on what the fuck Tite Kubo is doing. I tried to incorporate as much canon as possible, except for the Vizards returning to Soul Society. Because that is out of character and stupid, so screw that.  
**

**Once again, thank you all so much for sticking with me. I feel that this story has really helped my mediocre writing skills grow and I had fun with it.  
**

**Well, Au Revior! And review :D  
**


	12. Author's Note

**Hi again. Author's note here. I wanted to clear up some confusion. I saw people thought there was going to be a sequel. Looking at the last chapter, I saw I made a typo implying a sequel. Oops.**

**There is not going to be a sequel. I love that so many followed this story, and offer any FF writer and WIS fan to make their own sequel/I make story, then they can go nuts (with my permission), but I don't have another crossover in me.**

**Well, until the next (doubtfully HP/Bleach crossover) fanfic!**

**-JerichosPhantom**


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